Presets
by analogarhythmagic
Summary: "The storm is getting worse." "We'll pass through it soon enough." Some things you can never leave behind... canon w/ OC
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** This is a derivative work of fiction solely intended for private use and entertainment. The author does not profit or benefit materially in any way from its publishing and distribution and, as such, believes the work constitutes fair use under the Fair Use doctrine of U.S. copyright law. All copyrights in the original work are retained by the original authors/owners._

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**A/N: This story is meant to be a direct sequel to the movie _Serenity_. It was originally written and posted over six weeks in July and August of 2010. Since then, I've been working on editing it, but was growing frustrated with a lack of time and a tendency to get bogged down and obsess over perfecting every little detail. Tired of feeling like it was never complete, I decided to take a break from it, and ultimately from fan fiction in general. I removed it along with all of my other stories since I felt I could not devote the kind of attention to them that I really wanted to. Now I'm tentatively ready to make another attempt at revising and will be re-posting this chapter by chapter once again. Although some scenes will be added or rewritten, nothing about the plot will be substantially changed, so for those who have read it before it will still be familiar. ****One new addition is placement of the "§" symbol followed by a number at specific points in the story. This story has always had a "soundtrack" made up of songs that inspired me as I wrote it. That symbol marks the place where each song fits in and gives its information as a footnote so that those who feel so inclined can listen along as well. **An unbelievable amount of thanks goes to all of those who reviewed the original versions. Your comments and encouragement kept me from abandoning this and my other projects altogether. To new readers, please enjoy and leave a review to tell me what you think.

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**§1.**

**Prologue:**

"In Parliament today the special committee charged with investigating the anonymous 'Miranda wave' began its first official hearings. Although broadcast nearly four months ago, the broadwave continues to generate controversy and has caused a sharp divide in Parliament. Many representatives from the Core and nearby Border systems have opposed the creation of the committee, calling it redundant and a waste of taxpayers' money. They say the military's official report on the incident has already resolved the issue, attributing the wave to a large band of pirates who took control of a satellite in Comm Station Ring 2. That same band also ambushed an Alliance battlegroup deployed to investigate the situation. Although the pirates were effectively wiped out, nearly three hundred Alliance servicemen and women lost their lives in the battle, the most military casualties since the war. In a joint statement, opponents of the committee referred to that fact, stating that, '…allowing this investigation to continue dishonors the sacrifices of those soldiers by giving validity to the outrageous assertions made by the criminals who cowardly attacked them.'

"However, representatives from several of the largest planets in the Georgia and Blue Sun systems have not been swayed and have given their backing to the inquiry. Committee head Jansen Locherbie of Boros has been one of the most outspoken critics of the military's report, repeatedly stating his dissatisfaction with it and calling for an evaluation of the actual claims made in the wave. Among those claims is the implication that the government conducted secret experiments on the population of the planet Miranda, resulting in the deaths of millions of settlers. Also, some contend that the wave is proof of the existence of Reavers, a violent group of outlaws who have been raiding settlements on the Border and Rim for the past few years. This has led to increasing tensions between the central government and citizens on some Border and Rim worlds, many of whom have long been asking for more protection against such raids.

"Due to the groundswell of popular support in the outer systems, Chairperson Kwan allowed for the formation of the committee despite his personal opposition. As a result, he has taken criticism by some members of Parliament for being too easily manipulated by public opinion. In response, Kwan stated that he has absolute confidence in the military's report and that he believes the investigation will only discover that wave was a hoax, but he will not stand in the way of the will of the people to carry it out. However, Kwan refused Representative Locherbie's push for an exploratory mission to Miranda as part of the investigation. Although he admitted that the failure of terraforming on Miranda did lead to the deaths of some of the terraforming crew, he said that no incident on the scale suggested by the wave ever occurred and that, due to the danger, the world would remain closed to all but the military and authorized Alliance personnel. This is Stefanie Kurtwin with your hourly Newsfeed update."

_ "The storm's getting worse."_

_ "We'll pass through it soon enough."_

_Some things you can never leave behind…_

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**§2.**

**Chapter 1:**

_ River rushed through the shadows blackening the street. The night was already deep, but the torrential rain made it even darker. Soaked to the bone, she clung to Simon as he led them through the gloom, skirting along the façade of one of the buildings. They ducked into the mouth of an alley and halted, breathing desperately. In the downpour, the streetlamp across the way provided not so much light as just a weaker shade of darkness. Even so, the ambient glow was enough for anyone following to spot them. Simon pressed his back against the wall, one hand holding her against it as well. She sheltered behind her brother as he peered around the corner, his dread choking her with its thickness as he listened for their pursuers. Voices reached her ears, echo-y and indistinct, muffled by the rain._

_ "I hear them! I hear them coming!" she pawed at Simon's arm, panicked._

_ "Shhh," he soothed, taking both her hands in a firm but gentle grasp. "No they're not. There's no one out there. I think we lost them." The voices faded into the storm. Had they been real? She could not be sure. Everything was chaotic. Was she really even here, standing in the rain with her brother, or was that an illusion as well? She raised her face to the clouds, the droplets slapping her cheeks, and closed her eyes. It felt real enough. Soaking wet, for a moment she was able to let go of everything and revel in the fact that she was outside the walls that had been her prison. The hope, held out for so long… She soared on it._

_ But it was only for an instant. Then the darkness dragged her back. A tremor ran through her that was more than just a physical chill. Her eyes darted around the alley, trying to perceive the invisible beings that were most certainly out there and waiting to take her back to that horror. She felt them crawling over her scalp like lice, digging into her skull. It was just a matter of time before they got a grip on her._

_ "Just a matter of time. They go in and they cut. They drain you dry, and they replace it with… with…"_ _ She could not enumerate the thought. Lightning ignited the clouds and thunder rolled overhead. She jumped._

_ "It's okay _mei mei_," Simon assured her again. "Let me check again to make sure it's safe, and then we'll get out of this rain." In the murk she could just make out his forced smile, but it did nothing to cover the fear that still gripped them both. Reluctantly, she let go of his hands while he leaned around the corner for another glance down the street. She wrapped her arms about her, her eyes dancing about the rain-darkened alley. Though she could see nothing, she knew they were out there, hunting for her. An actinic flash illuminated the alley again, throwing disproportionate shadows around. One of them caught her attention, a silhouette at once familiar. She squinted at it through the black. Another flicker, and she saw it again, no mistake. She took a few steps towards it, her fear forgotten for a moment._

_ "River?" she heard Simon's voice search for her when he realized she was no longer beside him. She did not answer, though, so engrossed with the object that had caught her eye. "River?" Simon called more loudly. He stumbled into her, crouching down over the puddled ground. "River, come on. We have to go now," he urged, taking her arm._

_ "There's a flower," she said._

_ "What?"_

_ "There's a flower. Right there," she pointed to the ground. Simon peered down._

_ "What are you talking about?" Another violet bolt cracked the sky, throwing into relief the outline of the small blossom sprouting through a crack in the pavement._

_ "_Centaurea cyanus_. Young man in love," she said with a child's simple pleasure, delighting in its existence. Somehow, against all natural odds, it had managed to find a foothold in the concrete desert and survive. _

_ "Let's go." Simon took her arm again and stood her up. He led her deeper into the alley. She threw a longing look back at the little flower until it disappeared into the rain. It was just like her. Against all odds, she had survived that hell of a place. But though she was physically free now, she knew escape was not that easy. If she could just find her foothold… Memories welled up in her unbidden. Some she recognized, although they seemed from a different lifetime, and some she was sure were not her own but were there all the same. They came all at once in a jumble, rushing through her mind like a storm of their own, bringing with them a thousand different feelings that overwhelmed her senses. She shivered, feeling suddenly sick, her exposed skin now numb from the cold. Everything was growing darker as the storm pounded down harder. The rain had turned into a deafening roar between the alley's narrow walls, a curtain so dense that she could not even see her brother just an arm's length in front of her. _

_ "Simon, I can't see." she called ahead, straining to make out his form. Some unseen hazard caught her foot and she stumbled. Simon's fingers were torn from her arm, as if the storm had just swallowed him. "Simon?" she called, skidding to a halt. "Simon?" she repeated, her fear growing. She reached out for him, flailing through the darkness, but found nothing, not even the walls of the alley. "Simon! Where are you?" She whirled in a circle, unable to make out anything anymore. The roar of the storm surrounded her now, and not just outside but within as well, a pressure beneath her skull. Lost in the absolute darkness, she felt like the world was spinning around, trapping her in a whirling black vortex of nothingness. "Simon?" she cried out, terror breaking over her like an ocean wave. "Simon!"_

"Simon!" River shot upright with a shriek. Instinctively she curled herself into a ball against the wall. Her terrified eyes swept around while she cowered behind the covers. The room around her was insubstantial, like a mirage. It blurred at the edges of her vision, darkness seeping into the cracks and corners. Something malevolent stirred behind it. She did not want to know what it was. _Please go away, please go away, please, please, please…_ She gripped the covers until everything felt solid once more. It took a few more passes for her eyes to register that she was in her quarters on board _Serenity_. Her head throbbed, making her dizzy, and she rubbed one hand over her face, wiping the unshed tears away in the process. It was another nightmare, and then some. They were coming again, just like before Miranda. She pounded her fist into the mattress in frustration and then dropped her head onto her knees. _I'm going back._

After a few minutes to gather her fractured control, she glanced up at the timepiece on her com station. It was only twenty minutes until she had to be up for watch duty, which was just as well. She would get no more sleep tonight. Flinging back the covers, she tugged off her night shift and rummaged for some clothes. She found a clean white skirt and pulled on a dark green sweater over top of it. Her thoughts dwelt on the nightmare while she dressed. Was it just a dream, or was it a memory of something that really happened? It was still hard to tell, especially since everything before she came to _Serenity_ was so dark and hazy, like looking through smoked glass. But she needed to know if it was real or not. It was important that she be able to tell the difference. Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused on recreating the images as best she could remember. It was so dark and rainy that she could not recognize any of the buildings. They could have been on any number of worlds, and she had no clue how many she and Simon had traveled through before her brother smuggled her onto _Serenity_. The flower stood out the most in her mind. She recognized it as a cornflower, her favorite. _Plantae, Magnoliophyta, Magnolipsida, Asterales, Asteraceae, Centaurea, cyanus_, she automatically recited its biological classification. She had memorized it by the time she was four, but that gave her little clue as to whether or not the event was a remembrance of something real or just a dream. She still could not be sure. It made no sense that her brain could recall such a trivial thing from her childhood, yet she could hardly remember what happened just a year or two ago. She bit her lip in frustration, her eyes watering with the pain. At least _that_ was real.

Realizing she was getting nowhere with her memory, she shoved the nightmare out of her mind and headed for the ladder. Barefoot, she climbed from her quarters into the foredeck hall. Now that she was officially on the crew, the captain had allowed her to move into the unused cabin. Simon had objected to it. Although it was right next to the rest of the crew, it afforded more privacy than the passenger cabin that had served as her room ever since she had first arrived. Tonight, she was extra glad for that privacy. Simon's room was still in the passenger dorm, and her shouts would have woken him. She was not in a state of mind to deal with his unavoidable questions. He would have some new medicinal concoction for her by morning, no doubt. She grimaced. As her condition improved, he had taken her off the meds, except for the occasional dose of something to help her sleep. His vigilance was down to an extent as well, thanks in part to his blossoming relationship with Kaylee. But if he knew she was having a relapse, he would have her back on in no time. She hated the meds. They numbed her emotionally, which was sometimes a relief, but they often made her physically ill as well.

The cold and sharp edges of the corrugated metal stair dug into her soles as she climbed up to the bridge from the foredeck. She did not mind. Going barefoot grounded her, literally and figuratively, and she needed that tonight more than usual. She stepped over the bulkhead and moved so silently across the bridge that the captain did not even notice she was there until she was standing right next to him.

"Oh. Evenin' lil' albatross," Mal greeted her from his perch at the helm. She did not answer him, staring out at the stars through the main viewport. She felt rather than saw his expression shift to mild concern as he regarded her.

"I'm fine," she answered his question before he could ask it.

"You look a mite peaky s' all. How'd you sleep?"

"Fine." The word was edged with razor wire.

"Okaaay," Mal raised his palms in defense. "No call for rudeness. Captain's gotta know all his crew's in order. It's my job, you know."

"I know," River softened her tone, a little guilty she had snapped at him. The nightmare had her more on edge than she realized. She made a concerted attempt to will some calm through her. Mal rose from the helm and she slipped into the chair.

"Well, at least you're adaptin' to the watch cycle. We're still on schedule for arrival at Paquin. Should be there by morning. Anything happens… well, you know the drill by now," he said with a little smile.

"I do," she intoned quietly.

"Shiny." Mal yawned hugely and stretched. "Well, g'night." He ambled down the stairs. River heard his bunk open, footfalls on the ladder, and then the metallic _thunk_ as it closed behind him. She was alone on the bridge.

Like all vessels in space, _Serenity_ kept a standard 24 hour clock with the watch divided into three 8 hour shifts. Zoe took the first in the morning, and Mal the second. River took the third mostly because it was less distracting when everyone was asleep. She still struggled to control her ability, and it was stressful trying to keep even the simplest thoughts and feelings from invading her mind. Taking the night shift allowed her a respite from that. Still, she was human, and the third watch was undoubtedly lonely. She countered it by spending time on the Cortex or with Simon's Encyclopedia, absorbing as much information as her ravenous brain could. She had resumed her study of astrophysics and found it a comfort. The numbers and science were logical, unchangeable, and undeniably real. It allowed her to forget much of what was always lurking just on the edge of her consciousness. She had even impressed the captain by recalculating their course to shave almost a day off their ETA at Paquin.

"The nav computer takes into account the orbital distance our destination moves over the time we're traveling, estimates a trajectory, and calculates a burn time to based on predicted particle and gravitational drag coefficients," River had explained to him.

"I know how a nav computer works," Mal had lied.

"Well it only calculates our destination's orbital transit to the nearest standard day." She smiled slyly. "I calculated it to the nearest second."

"So… that means what?"

"It gives a more accurate trajectory with a much more precise burn time and fewer necessary course corrections. Instead of arriving in 59 days, 9 hours, and 36 minutes, we'll arrive in 58 days, 19 hours, and 12 minutes."

"And how did you figure all that out? In your head?"

"No," she responded without a trace of hubris. "I had to check my solutions." She handed him a tablet, and Mal stared at the incomprehensible formulas she had traced out on it. He handed it back to her, rubbing his head.

"Fine. Go ahead and punch it in. But your mathematical geniusness better not make me regret it by bouncin' us into an asteroid or some such."

"Highly improbable," she had replied with all seriousness and started entering the course on the keyboard. The captain's awkward approval had really meant something to her, though. It was the first time since Simon had snuck her aboard that she actually felt useful, instead of just a burden or worse. She had been a part of the crew and _Serenity_'s pilot for almost three months now. Even so, she sensed a lingering remnant of distrust from the others. They were probably not even conscious of it, but she could tell. It was unavoidable, and she could not blame them for it. How could they trust her completely without really knowing if what the Academy had done to her was still there? Yet, despite all that she had been welcomed as family aboard the ship. But now the nightmares were starting again. She did not know what that meant, but she did not want to admit that maybe those lingering fears and doubts might be justified.

Turning her attention to the controls, she double-checked the course on the nav screen and then ran through the other displays to ensure _Serenity_'s systems were all in line. Going through these routine procedures steadied her. It helped relieve the chaos of the nightmare to do something as simple and normal as running systems checks. She paused when the engine output display came up, creasing her brow slightly. The core was still fluxing a little bit. It had never been perfectly steady, not since the rebuild. She would have to remember to tell Kaylee to look into it. She searched for something to make herself a note with, but, of course, there was nothing on the bridge. She swung out of the helm and plodded off the bridge and down to the galley. She grabbed a napkin from the table and scrounged through the storage cubbies for a pen. Finding one, she scribbled her note on the napkin and tossed the pen on the table.

A sudden moment of disorientation struck her as she turned towards the door. She wobbled, pressing a hand to her temple while her head swam. When she could see straight again, the familiar hues of the dining area were gone. Everything was washed out, overexposed in shades of blue. Blinking to try and restore her vision to normality, she leaned on the table to steady herself. Something surprisingly warm and sticky squelched between fingers. Looking down, she saw her hands were smeared with what looked like chocolate sauce. That did not make sense. Where had it come from? The fluid dripped from her fingers and ran in rivulets down her arms. The tabletop and the pen she had just thrown were also covered with it. Looking around for some explanation, she realized with shock that her clothes were gone. Instead of her skirt and sweater, she was dressed in a plain hospital gown. It, too, was streaked with dark stains. Confused, she backed away from the table, staring at herself. That was when she tripped over the body. It took a few seconds for her to recover from the fall before her mind registered it. Then horror tore apart her thoughts. It was face-down, so she could not identify who it was other than it was a man. He was wearing a lab coat and a pool of chocolate-y brown oozed from around his head and chest. Shaking in terror she scrambled away from the corpse, backing up against the wall. Her breath came in rapid gasps. She could not tear her eyes away. A familiar, tangy odor flooded into her nostrils, turning her stomach. After staring for a few more horrible seconds, she screamed.

As her second scream rang down the corridors of _Serenity_, Mal stumbled into the dining area, shirtless but still in his trousers.

"What the hell's goin' on?" he shouted, leaping down the small set of steps. "River?" he whirled around and found her crouched against the cabinets next to the bulkhead, her arms shielding her face. He knelt in front of her, pulling her arms down. "What is it? What happened?" She was shaking too violently to answer him.

"What's goin' on?" Zoe appeared in the doorway next, also just barely dressed.

"Go get the Doc," Mal ordered her. The first mate hesitated a moment, then darted toward the forward stairs.

"What's all the noise?" Kaylee appeared a few moments later, still too sleepy to be all that concerned.

"He's dead!" River cried. That shook the mechanic awake.

"What? Who's dead? Captain, what's she talkin' about?"

"Don't rightly know. River, who's dead?" River pointed towards the man lying on the floor, except it was not there anymore. She stared at the spot where it had been. Not a drop of blood was to be seen. She examined her hands. They were clean. Her clothes, too, were what she had put on when she got up. Even her vision was back to normal. Frantic, she leaped up and ran to where the body had lain. Mal got out of her way, but watched her warily. She ran a hand through her hair, pacing over the spot.

"He was here. I saw him." She pointed at the floor, looking to Kaylee and Mal for corroboration. Her stomach twisted. They did not believe her. She did not need to see their confused expressions to know it.  
"Who was here?" Mal asked. She stared at the floor, frowning and uncertain.

"What's going on?" Simon dashed into the dining area, Zoe shadowing him. He immediately recognized how upset River was and came to her. "River…" She recoiled from him, his worry like an assault on her raw nerves. "It's okay, River. It's me. What's wrong?" he asked, a disturbed frown crossing his face. She turned away so he would not see the tears starting to form.

"He was dead," she mumbled, picking at her lip, fingers still trembling. "The colors changed, and I had blood on my hands, and he was there on the floor."

"It's okay. There's nothing there, see?" he gently turned River to face him. "Was it a nightmare?" She shook her head, wrapping her arms about herself.

"I wasn't sleeping."

"All right. Let's get you down to the infirmary…"

"I'm okay," she asserted, thrusting his hands away.

"River, if you had a hallucination…"

"I wasn't… hallucinating." Her voice was hesitant. She was not really sure that was true. Simon regarded her evenly, but she felt his doubt.

"All the same, I want to do a quick check up, make sure you're okay," he said. She scowled at him.

"Think the Doc should have a look at you, just to be safe," Mal agreed in a tone that was not a suggestion. "Zoe, can you cover the watch for a while?"

"Yes sir. Just let me get somethin' more on." Zoe vanished towards her quarters. River watched Mal, arms crossed over his bare chest. She saw the unease written in his face and she felt sick. She twisted away from Simon and bolted from the room so they would not see her furious tears.

* * *

River hated the infirmary. Her every movement, her very posture emphasized that fact. Hatred was not even a strong enough word. She loathed, abhorred, detested the place. Even thought it was Simon's, she would never be comfortable here. The _pop_ of a syringe top coming off made her jump. She closed her eyes, forcing some relaxation into her limbs. Simon swabbed the inside of her elbow with disinfectant and she winced just a little as he inserted a needle to draw blood. He did not say anything. She could tell he was waiting for her to speak first. She could play that game as well, and knew she would win. She remained stubbornly silent. Simon withdrew the syringe and pressed a gauze pad over the insertion point. She mechanically took over applying pressure while he stepped over to the counter. A machine whirred to life, filling the pregnant silence a little, but she felt her brother's mind quickly growing impatient. It was pressing him to get some answers. She gave him a few more seconds. When he spoke she shared a tiny, victorious smile with herself.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" She held onto her silence a little longer before replying.

"I had a nightmare."

"I thought you said you weren't asleep?"

"I wasn't. Before that."

"Before you were in the dining area?"

"Yes."

"What was it about?"

"It was dark, storming. You and I were running. I got lost, lost in the dark. I lost you." She did not go into further detail.

"What about just now?" She shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

"I don't know."

"You said the colors changed. What did you mean?"

"They were wrong. Too bright, washed out, lots of blue."

"What about now?"

"Normal."

"And the body you saw?" Her silence dragged out a few seconds. "River?" She did not want to answer. She had been trying not to think too hard about it. Although it was disturbing enough in itself, what haunted her more was the blood she had seen on herself. That led to an obvious conclusion about how it got there, but she was not able to endure what that certainly meant. She was verging on tears again and turned her head away from her brother. Simon saw it and thankfully decided to not to press her any further. "It's okay," he said soothingly, but she sensed his deepening concern. Her stark phrases were all too familiar to him. The same fears she had felt after the nightmare were playing out in his mind, too. It was too much to bear at the moment, so with a deep, shuddering sigh, she settled back into the chair and closed her eyes and her mind.

* * *

Mal entered the infirmary, fully clothed now, and stopped before the exam chair. His pilot was slouched in it, eyes closed and apparently calm. Her chest rose and fell regularly.

"She asleep?" he asked Simon when she did not respond to his arrival.

"No," Simon shook his head. Mal folded his arms and scrutinized her. "So, how are you?" he asked after a moment. She opened her eyes and shifted them to him, but made no answer. He had seen that look enough to know if she did not want to talk, she was not going to, so he turned and posed the question to Simon instead.

"Well, I'm running her blood right now just to make sure there's no infection or metabolic imbalance. Otherwise, she's…" Simon trailed off as he glanced at his sister. Her face was turned obstinately away. He gave Mal an apologetic smile and shrugged. The machine beeped behind him and he turned to the screen on the wall, bringing up the results. Mal waited as he went over them. "Hmmm… nothing appears abnormal. All the levels are about where they should be. Everything looks fine."

"So what's that mean?" Mal asked.

"That she should be fine," Simon answered. River got up abruptly.

"Where are you goin'?" Mal stopped her with his question. She halted on the edge of the seat, not looking at him.

"Back on watch."

"No, you go back to your room. I'll have Zoe take the watch." Her jaw tightened, but she did not move.

"River, it might be best if you just got some rest tonight," Simon persuaded gently. Mal waited for her to protest. She did not.

"Yes, sir," she said instead. Her words were flat, stoic. She left the infirmary without a further glance at either of them. Mal relaxed a little. That was the first time he had really given her the opportunity to challenge his authority, and he could tell she wanted to. He was not sure what would happen if she got it in her head to defy him, especially after tonight. But she had obeyed, for now at least. He walked over to the wall and punched the com.

"Zoe, I relieved River for the night. Think you can handle the watch?"

"Aye, sir."

"Good. I'll relieve you at 0800. So, she should be fine, but she ain't," he returned to his conversation with Simon. "Any idea what brought this on?" Simon shrugged. "Look Doc," Mal took a step closer, "if she's gonna be on my crew, she can't go flyin' off the handle like she used to. I thought she was better after… all that," he waved his hand. It was still difficult to speak about it sometimes.

"She is better. She's off the meds. I think the psychoses are gone but…"

"Gone? What was that then? I guess it's perfectly normal to be seein' dead bodies on the floor of the mess."

"I don't think it was a psychotic episode."

"What makes you say that?"

"She said she wasn't hallucinating."

"Does she know the difference?"

"Yes, now… maybe." Mal passed a skeptical glace over the doctor. "Look, she can understand what's going on. She knows what's real and what isn't," Simon explained. "But she's still got a lot of recovering to do. I think this was something else."

"Like what?"

"Post-traumatic stress, maybe. She said she had blood on her, and we know she's… killed before. She's certainly seen more violence than any kid should, and it's not like she was in the best state to deal with it." Simon's voice carried a hint of accusation, but Mal was pondering the rest of his comment and did not take notice of it.

"You think maybe she's rememberin' some of that?" he asked.

"I can't say for sure. She was different then. Maybe she couldn't deal with those things, bottled them up and put them all away. Now that her mind is functioning better, they're coming back." Mal brooded for a while. A disturbing notion entertained his attention.

"Maybe those weren't the only times," he finally uttered it.

"The only times for what?"

"Her killin'." He looked pointedly at Simon. Simon swallowed hard. Mal saw he was not the only passenger on that train of thought, then. "We know the Alliance tried to turn her into a weapon," he went on, "and you don't send a weapon into battle 'fore it's been tested."

"It's possible," Simon agreed in a small voice.

"Knowin' the Alliance, I wouldn't put it past 'em," Mal growled. River was hands down the scariest person he had ever faced in fight. She was deadly enough hand-to-hand, and though he had not seen it for himself, he had seen the aftermath of what happened when she got a hold of a couple of sharp, pointy objects. He could only imagine the carnage of the actual battle. Psychic or not, though, no one got to that level of skill without practice. Lots and lots of practice. He stood in silence and could not help but feel a little sick at the prospect of River's hidden and potentially extensive violent past at the Academy.

"You were in the war, Captain," Simon finally broke into his thoughts. "Do you ever have flashbacks?" Mal stiffened. The question had caught him off guard, and before he could quash them behind his usual defense, memory and emotion welled up like blood from a scab torn off an old wound. He stared at the wall, through it, while flashes of vision cycled through his mind. Faces. Friends and enemies. Pain, suffering, and death. The nights lying awake and wondering, why did it have to happen? But that was not the way things worked out. He shook his head, reeling everything back in and tamping it down behind his barriers.

"I've got a few that haunt me now and then," he admitted very quietly.

"Then I guess you probably know more about what she's going through than I do."

"Conjure I might," he said, but his expression was closed off.

"It's not going to be easy for her. She was there two years before I could break her out. I've seen what they've done to her pathologically, but I can't imagine what two years of torture…" Simon broke off in a choke of emotion. He took a second to recover and then continued more quietly. "She loves this ship, Mal. She loves this crew. It's her family now. It's our family," he added after a moment's hesitation. "She'll need our support." Mal's face softened as he listened. He nodded, but kept his thoughts to himself.

"Well, get some rest, Doc," was all he offered as he left the infirmary.

Climbing the stairs, he confronted his warring thoughts. That little discussion had stirred up some dark corners of his mind, things he had tried hard to forget, or at least to live with. Still, his had been a choice. He volunteered for the war. River was not given a choice. He did not think he wanted to know what she had endured. He found a quiet fury building at the Alliance, the same fury he always felt whenever he really thought about what had been done to her. Shaking his head, he descended the ladder to his bunk and closed the hatch.

******§1:** Rush, "Caravan," 2010**  
**

**§2**: Sylvan, "The Colors Changed," _Posthumous Silence_, 2006


	2. Chapter 2

Mal awoke to the incessant beep of his alarm around seven thirty in the morning, groggy. Altering the watch last night had him getting up a few hours earlier than he was used to. Rough dreams had plagued his sleep, too, but he could not recall them now. Getting dressed, he splashed some water on his face to shake out the cobwebs. He gave himself a once-over in the tiny, grungy square of a mirror. He looked tired. A good cup of tea was in order, but he was captain and there were things to be done first. With a sigh, he resigned himself to fighting the fatigue a little longer and climbed out of his bunk. Looking in on the bridge was his first order of business.

"Zoe."

"Mornin' sir," she greeted him.

"What's the report?"

"We'll be in the Heinlein system in less than an hour. Should be at Paquin not much after that."

"And Ving? Heard from him yet?"

"Got a wave about two hours ago. He was askin' about you. Don't know if that's a good or a bad thing."

"Well, at least he remembers." Mal had not dealt with Ving for near a full three years, but they had lost a disturbing number of good friends and business partners to the Alliance's "scorched earth" tactics leading up to Miranda. _And some of us lost more than that_, he glanced at Zoe who was calmly manning the helm. _Nothing you could do about it_, he told himself right away so he could at least pretend he believed it. Dwelling on it now was not going to help. It would only bring up the bitter realization that, as precious as it was that they were flying again, things were never going to be the same. But one thing had not changed. They still had to work. That meant getting back in touch with old acquaintances and making new contacts. It was risky dealing with folk he did not know he could trust, but he figured the odds were not too bad against him, especially considering if he did not risk it, the chance of starving was one hundred percent. "Got a few things to take care of before I relieve you," he changed the subject. "Can you handle it for a few more minutes?"

"Not a problem, sir."

"Thanks," he clapped Zoe on the shoulder.

He descended from the bridge and strode through the foredeck to River's open hatch, where he paused. An odd smell wafted up from inside. Curious, he reached out to knock.

"Come in," River called. He dropped his hand, miffed. He was still adapting to her being able to pick up on things like that. They all were.

"I'm gonna have to institute a rule that you can only read my mind when we're face to face," he called as he clambered down. "Why does it smell like paint in he…" As he stepped off the last rung, the room answered his question and he stood agape. It was covered in flowers. He rotated his gaze around. They were everywhere. Roses curled up over the ceiling on spiral vines. Daisies decorated the walls. Flowers in every color of the rainbow filled every blank space. Mal's jaw snapped shut as he found his pilot, smudged with paint, kneeling on her mattress and calmly touching up the wall at her bedside.

"_Di yu du biaozi du ma_, what the…" he couldn't finish and just stared some more. "You wanna explain yourself?" he demanded when he found his voice again. River paused in her work to take in the room as well.

"I wanted to make it as beautiful as it could be," she said placidly. "Colorful. Cover all the cracks."

"What cracks?"

"Should have done it a long time ago," she took no note of his question. Her voice softened, like she was talking to herself more than him. "Keep it warm and safe. Replace the haze. It might help me remember, if the colors change again." She looked at Mal as if he had a clue what she was talking about.

"Yeah, that's great." He covered his annoyance, scratching his forehead at the same time. "Look, we need to discuss last night…"

"I'm fine," she set down her brush and the tray she was using as a palette.

"You sure 'bout that?"

"Yes."

"'Cause it weren't no pleasure bein' scared up like that."

"I'm sorry." Her chin dropped.

"If you're gonna be my pilot, I gotta know you ain't gonna lose focus or go all crazy," –he saw her twitch at that word- "on me when we got trouble on our tail. I gotta know I can trust you. Doc says you're okay, but I wanna hear it from the source." He eyed her beneath arched brows. She met his gaze and nodded. "Good. Don't think it don't please me to see you actin' more normal-like, but I will have your brother put you back on the meds, or I'll take you off the watch if I can't trust you to make that call yourself. Also, just 'cause you're on the crew now don't mean you can do as you please with your bunk. Next time you want to do somethin' like this to _my_ ship," he waved about the room, "ask first." She nodded again. "I got nothin' against you decoratin' the place a bit, but… where'd you get the paint from anyhow?"

"Kaylee."

"Of course," he muttered, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "So, are we clear on everything?

"Yes sir."

"Shiny. File this conversation under 'Things I Have To Do To Keep The Captain Happy'." She nodded once more, eyes still downcast. Mal felt like a bit of a heel for lecturing the girl after seeing her condition last night, but she had to know her position was probationary. He would absolutely not jeopardize his crew's safety, regardless of how he felt towards her. She had a job to do, and if she could not do it, she was out. That was that. He started climbing the ladder.

"Captain?" she stopped him. He swung back down. "Can I go with you on the job?"

"Well I don't rightly know…" he started to say, taken aback that she actually took the initiative to ask.

"You were thinking of taking me already," she interrupted him. Mal flushed slightly.

"Well, I suppose I was," he admitted, leaning against the wall. "After last night, though…" She pleaded at him with her eyes. He ruminated on it. She would be a boon if trouble came calling, no question. On the other hand, he did not delude himself into thinking the Alliance was no longer interested in her. But it was unlikely the Alliance would be where they were going, and there had not been a bulletin on the Cortex since before Miranda. Besides, captain or no, he was a _gorram_ sucker for puppy-dog eyes like that. "Fine, you can come." A genuine smile lit up her features. "It's just a meet with our contact to find out what's available in the means of work. Nothin' 'specially dangerous."

"You don't need to reassure me. It's Simon who will need convincing."

"Reckon you're right about that. What say you let me deal with him." He smiled conspiratorially, and she returned it. He started to climb again when she called him back once more. He groaned, jumping back down.

"What?" his annoyance and lack of caffeine started to leak through.

"Can I pilot us in?"

"Now that I will have to think on." Her shoulders drooped in resignation, but she did not protest. "Anything else?" She shook her head. "Good. Now get this cleaned up. No more." He gave her the serious eye and climbed out.

As Mal exited River's bunk, Jayne, bushy-haired and sleepy-eyed, was just slogging up the ladder from his own room. When the stench of paint hit the mercenary's nose, though, he came alert with a spate of coughing.

"Whew! Stinks to high heaven!" he wrinkled up his nose in disgust. "What she doin' down there? She get into some o' Inara's stuff?"

"She painted her room," Mal answered with a shake of his head.

"What for?" Jayne asked.

"Hell if I know. Said she wanted to make it pretty or somethin'. Now it's all covered in flowers."

"Well, why'd you let her do it?"

"I didn't," Mal snapped. "She just did it on her own."

"What're you so bent outta shape for? You let Kaylee paint her door."

"That was a _door_, Jayne. This is an entire room."

"Well, if she ever leaves, I guess you're just gonna have to hire another woman pilot, then," he grinned. Mal gave him a look, but the man was not discouraged. "Preferably a pretty one, maybe with blond hair." Mal just turned for the dining area. He rubbed his eyes. An ache was starting to form between his brows, either from being tired, the reek of paint, or both. "Uh, Mal?" Jayne called to his back.

"What?" he whirled around, more than a little cranky now. Jayne looked surprised by the sharpness of his tone.

"Uh… nuthin'. Nevermind," the man gave a little innocent shake of his head, but the corners of his lips were just starting to twist into a grin again. Mal shook his head in exasperation and headed down the forward stairwell to find Simon.

The infirmary was where one could usually count on finding the Doc, but when Mal stuck his head in this morning it was empty. He took a jaunt down to the passenger quarters next, but Simon's door was open and his room vacant. He had not seen him in the mess when he passed through on his way downstairs, and he was obviously not in River's room. Recently, Simon going MIA meant only one thing- Kaylee. And since he remembered her bunk had been open, that left only one place to look.

"Oh, I warned that _hu li jing_…" Mal muttered, taking the rear stairwell two steps at a time. His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the engine room door. It was closed. It was never closed. He sidled up to it and peered through the window, then looked away swiftly. "Yep," he said after getting less than an eyeful, but more than what he wanted to see. He rapped loudly on the metal door. "Is there a doctor in the house?" He heard scuffles and hushed voices. The door cracked and a sliver of Kaylee appeared. Her hair was a little more mussed than usual, but least she was clothed, or what he could see of her was.

"Hey Cap'n," she greeted in her usual sprightly manner, though her cheeks appeared a little flushed.

"Hey Kaylee," he matched her cheerfulness. "I'm lookin' for Simon but I ain't found him anywhere. You wouldn't happen to know where he might be?" he asked innocently. He saw Kaylee contemplate the lie before she even spoke a word. He smiled internally. She knew she was caught, and she was a terrible liar, but he had to admire her spirit for trying.

"Umm, nope. Haven't seen him."

"Really? 'Cause I'm sure I looked everywhere else, and this here's the only place I haven't been. Thought maybe he'd come up here to give you a quick _check-up_." Simon's embarrassed face slowly appeared a ways behind Kaylee.

"Hi, Captain."

"Well, how 'bout that! Guess he was here. I was right after all." Kaylee lowered her eyes sheepishly, her ears burning red now. "Kaylee, I believe we've had this discussion before," Mal dropped the sarcasm for his Captain's voice. "What you do on your own time, in your bunk, with whomever ain't none o' my business. But when you're in the engine room, you're on my time and it is my business. Don't make me tell you again- no fornicatin' while on duty! _Dong ma__?_"

"Yes Cap'n. Sorry."

"Now tell the Doctor to stow it. I wanna have a chat with him."

"Yes sir," Kaylee nodded.

"Next time I'm sending in Jayne with a vid-capture," he shouted as he walked away.

"Uh, Cap'n?" Kaylee asked. Mal stopped, slouched his shoulders in defeat, and turned slowly.

"What?"

"Umm, why do you got flowers on your behind?"

"What?"

"You got flowers on your rear." She twirled her finger for him to turn around. "They look like… pansies." Horror dawned on him.

"Oh no…" He wiped at the seat of his trousers and pastel paint smeared his hand. A torrent of curses poured from his mouth while he twisted furiously in a circle, trying to see behind him. Kaylee started giggling. Simon peered around her and joined in laughing as well. Mal stopped spinning and glared at them with fury. "It ain't funny!" That just made them laugh harder. "This is your fault!" he jabbed a finger at Kaylee.

"Me? How's it my fault?" Kaylee protested through a guffaw.

"You gave her the paint! It's your fault, too," Mal rounded on Simon next.

"What did I do?"

"She's your sister."

"Of course. So it's automatically my fault."

"Damn right! You're supposed to be keepin' an eye on her, not _jiao pei_ with my mechanic!" Their laughter only redoubled as Mal whirled and stormed toward the foredeck. "River!" he shouted, almost running over Inara who had to press herself against the wall to avoid him.

"Excuse me!" she threw him a dirty look as he shoved past. Then, "Mal, why do you..."

"Don't start!" he yelled back without looking. Behind him, Simon and Kaylee were now beside themselves with hysterics. "River!" Mal shouted down her ladder when he reached her room. "You're on laundry duty for a month! And if you can't get these _gorram_ flowers off my ass, I'm takin' a new pair o' pants outta your pay!" He stomped to his cabin, swung down, and slammed the hatch behind him.

1 _Di yu du baiozi du ma_- whores in hell

2 _hu li jing_- seductress

3 _Dong ma_- "Do you understand?"

4 _jiao pei_- mating; copulating


	3. Chapter 3

Grumbling and adjusting his suspenders on a fresh pair of trousers, Mal strode into the mess. Simon, Kalyee, and Inara were gathered at the table now, sharing breakfast. They were all trying their best and failing miserably to suppress grins as he entered. He glowered at the bunch, daring them to make any sort of comment, and then headed into the galley.

"You ladies mind if I have a word with the doctor in private?" he asked as he poured water from the kettle into his cup. It was not really a question but an order.

"Of course not, Mal," Inara rose politely, though the grin was still on her face. She took her breakfast and headed towards the door. Kaylee followed, giving Simon a quick peck on the forehead as she passed.

"Gonna be hittin' atmo in afew hours," Mal stopped her at the doorway. "Make sure she's all ready."

"Aye, aye Cap'n Pansy-pants." Giggling mischeviously, Kaylee bolted for the engine room before Mal could shout anything in retort. Simon stifled a laugh and received a hard glare. The doctor quickly tried to reorient himself into a semblance of seriousness but could not quite completely dismiss the amusement from his face. Mal gave him a moment more to recover, scooping some tea into his cup and stirring it before he settled down at the opposite end of the table.

"Wanted to have a quick talk about River," he started.

"She's a teenage girl," Simon began to defend his sister immediately.

"Not about the paint," Mal cut him off. "I wanted to tell you that she's comin' with me to the meet." Simon's mouth opened, but Mal silenced him with a gesture. "Now before you get all riled, hear me out. I know things didn't go quite so well last time she came 'long on a job. Some unpleasantries were exchanged afterward," he flexed his jaw, remembering one in particular. "But all that's long past."

"You nearly got her savaged by Reavers that time," protested Simon.

"That ain't likely to happen again," Mal parleyed. "Your sister and the Alliance saw to that."

"And if I remember correctly, you threatened to throw us off if I didn't let her go," Simon accused, refusing to drop the issue.

"Well, things is a might different now, if you hadn't noticed. For one, y'all are part of my crew, and you weren't before. But that also means you gotta take my orders, whether you like 'em or not. She's got her own responsibilities on this ship now as I decide are suitable for her, and this is one of 'em." Simon opened his mouth to retort, but stopped short, and Mal knew he had him there. With his and River's promotion to full crew members also went any standing Simon had to challenge Mal's authority over the two of them. That was taking the doctor some time to adjust to. He disliked the notion, to be sure, but his respect for the rules left him no real recourse. He simmered futilely, but that was all he could do. "Second, she's eighteen now," Mal carried on. "That's legal adult. You ain't in charge of what she can and can't do no more."

"But she still needs someone to look after her," Simon objected. "She doesn't know enough about crime and the circles you run in, even after being on this boat as long as she has."

"Oh, and you do? So if I asked you to come along, you'd do better 'n her?" With a sigh, Simon conceded that point as well. Mal sipped his tea before making his final argument. "Lastly, she asked me if she could come."

"She asked you?"

"Yes, she asked me. I was debatin' the idea beforehand, but when she brought it up this morning, I said yes." Mal was pretty sure that would seal the deal for his side. Simon would no doubt view River's initiative as a sign of her improvement, so no matter how uncomfortable he was about her desire to go, he would be even more unwilling to take that choice away from her. The doctor looked like he was about to give in, but then his gaze shifted over Mal's shoulder. Mal turned around and found River watching them from just outside the doorway. He sent her a look to urge her on her way. She remained a second longer before disappearing down the forward stairs. He gave it a space to make sure she was gone before turning back to Simon.

"I don't know, Mal," Simon's acceptance wavered now. "After last night…"

"I know. I admit it aroused my concerns, too," Mal said, checking over his shoulder one more time. He did not know precisely the range of River's reading ability, but he reckoned it was no more than earshot. Either way, he did not want her to be privy to the next part of the conversation, so he leaned a little closer over the table and lowered his voice. "That's why I'm takin' precautions. I want you to teach me the safe word. If somethin' like last night happens again, I think I can handle her. But if she _fa feng_ completely, well, it'll be just like the Maidenhead, and that's precisely the kind of attention I'd like to avoid. "

"I don't like it," Simon shook his head, reluctant. "We don't know how many of those subliminal triggers are still out there. Anything could set her off."

"Well, that's a chance I gotta take. Ving's never given me no reason to distrust him, but a lot can change a person in three years. She might be of use. I'd rather have her along than not."

"Even if it means putting her at risk?"

"Hang on, did you just get déjà vu?" asked Mal as he sat back. Simon continued to balk. "You're not gonna win me over on this, Doc. And you're certainly not gonna dissuade your sister. She seemed determined," he grinned a bit. "You try and stop her and she'd put you on your back quicker 'n you could spit, as I recall."

"Okay, fine," Simon relented.

"Think of it this way, you said this ship was her home, and we're her family now. I'm just lettin' her be a contributin' member."

"Most families aren't involved in smuggling and running from the law."

"So we're a mite dysfunctional." Mal drained his cup. "Now, how does this safe word work?"

* * *

River hovered at the top of the stairs, apprehensive. She was curious as to how the conversation with her brother was going back in the dining area, but Mal had obviously not wanted her to intrude. She dutifully moved on, but this was as far as she had gotten. Simon's concern over her going on the job was just a distraction anyway. The real reason for her nervousness was something else entirely. Even though she had been mulling it over for a while now, well before the captain had considered taking her with him, it still surprised her how much effort it took to get herself up to this task. But now that she was going along on the job, it was all the more reason to do it. Standing there, she chided herself for her lack of discipline, yet she still did not more. Why was such a simple, reasonable thing so intimidating? People did it all the time, regularly in fact, and for far less sensible motives that she had. It was not like it was going to change who she was, turn her into someone else. That was a silly notion, of course, but a small corner of her mind clung to that irrational fear. It held more clout that she would have thought. She paced a little, her resolve wavering.

_No, I have to go through with it_. _Don't have a choice_. With a determined breath, she descended the stairs before her doubts had a chance to arrest her again. Entering the common area she found Inara there, curled on the couch stirring a cup of tea. The Companion wore a simple black dress with a blue silk stole draped over her shoulders like a shawl. Her dark curls were piled haphazardly on her head. _The way the captain likes,_ River thought. Even though she had probably just gotten out of bed, she still managed to look elegant.

"Good morning, River," Inara flashed a smile in greeting.

"Good morning." River hesitated, unsure once again. "I… I'm sorry. I don't want to bother you…but I… I wanted to ask you something," she stammered.

"Of course," Inara invited her question warmly. River bit her lip and looked at her feet, her hands fidgeting, before she finally forced the words out.

"Can you cut my hair?" Inara gave her a blank look of surprise. "I didn't know if it was part of… of what you do," River added quickly.

"Oh, um… well, actually, it is, in a way," said Inara, recovering. She unfurled her legs, sitting up and setting her tea on the table. "Companions are trained in all the arts of beauty so we can make ourselves most appealing for a client. But, why do you want your hair cut?" she asked the obvious question.

"I'm going with the captain on the job. I don't want to be recognized."

"Oh, Mal is dragging you along, is he?"

"No. I want to go. This is my idea," River raised her eyes and tried to sound resolute.

"Okay. Well, sit down and let's talk," Inara patted the couch next to her. "Did you have something in mind?"

"I think it should be shorter," River murmured as she sat. "Yes, that sounds right. Doesn't it?" She searched Inara's face for guidance.

"Well, that depends on what you want."

"I don't know. I haven't cut it in so long. It's always been…" she held up a loose strand. "Ever since I… I just want it different."

"Shorter is a start." Inara reached out and stroked her hair with a reassuring smile. "How about we go from there?"

"Okay," River nodded.

"Why don't you have a seat in a chair and…" Inara started to rise, but River grabbed her arm.

"Can you do it in your room?" she asked. Then she looked away, color flushing her neck. "I… I don't want anyone to see."

"It's okay to be a little nervous," Inara said, easing back down next to her. "It's been a long time." River felt the Companion's gentle assurance radiating with her smile, and it was as much a comfort as her words. She nodded, returning the smile awkwardly. "Come," Inara took her hand. River rose and followed her towards the passenger dorm. They picked up a chair from the commons along the way and carried it into the Companion's small room. Inara beckoned River to sit and then turned to rustle through her lone storage trunk of belongings. She shook out one of her robes and draped it backwards over River's shoulders. "Now, I need to find some scissors and something we can wash your hair with first," she said. "I'll be right back. In the meantime, you can think a little bit more about what you would like me to do with it." She slipped out, closing the door and leaving River to her thoughts.

River glanced around at the familiar corners of the room. This same cabin had once been hers. Now it served as Inara's temporarily residence. In the aftermath of Miranda, they had not had the chance to return the Companion to her training house yet. However, she knew Inara was ambivalent about leaving again. River could not quite comprehend why, though she knew it had much to do with Mal. However, trying to follow the complex interplay between the two of them was confusing even for a reader. She could understand Simon and Kaylee's relationship, as awkward as it had been at first, but Mal and Inara she could not fathom. They spent most of their time either oblivious to their feelings or fighting them outright, yet they obviously cared for each other. That did not seem like love to her. But what did she know? For all her knowledge and awareness, love, at least the romantic kind, was something she was still fairly ignorant about. Sensuality, lust, and desire, these were not difficult to comprehend. They were physical needs of the body expressed as emotions. But the happiness and joy, the contentment, that sense of belonging to another in such an intimate way, it was something she had only experienced second-hand. No one was happier than her for Simon and Kaylee, but mixed in with that gladness was a tiny sliver of jealousy as well. She could not help but wonder if she would ever experience what they had. Or maybe the Academy had taken that from her, too.

* * *

Inara hurried upstairs to find some supplies for her sudden makeshift salon. Although the request was unexpected, she thought it was a rather good sign that River had the desire to alter her appearance. Maybe it was a symbolic way of taking control of her life again after so long under the influence of what the Academy had done to her. In that case, Inara did not want to disappoint the girl. She was going to have to improvise, though, and she hoped she could do a decent enough job with what was available. In the empty dining area, she rifled through the cubbies until she found the small pot she often used to boil water for tea. It would serve well enough as a pitcher. Unfortunately, there was nothing any larger than that to act as a catch basin. She pondered on what else she could use for a moment, and decided there might be something in the infirmary. She needed to see about some scissors as well, and that was also the most likely place to score a pair. With cookware in hand, she headed back downstairs. Along the way she could not help but think how much more convenient this would be if she was still renting her old shuttle. Everything she needed would have been right there. That thought quickly led to the uncomfortable reminder that she had not waved the training house yet. _Serenity_ had been repaired and flying for almost two months now, so it was not like she had not had the opportunity. But she had been honest when Mal asked her if she was ready to return, and two months later she was still not sure. Despite the trauma of Miranda, or perhaps because of it, she had grown even more attached to _Serenity_. Even though her best sense told her she should, she did not know if she wanted to leave again. Often enough she found herself in moments like this, wishing she was back in her old role aboard the ship. It did not sound so hard, but her sudden disappearance from the house coinciding with the arrival of an Alliance Operative were certainly going to raise some questions from both a personal and professional standpoint. If she wanted to remain in good standing with the Guild, those would have to be dealt with sooner or later. At the very least, though, she owed Sheydra the courtesy of a wave. Her friend had to be worried about her and would be relieved to know that she was safe. She would just have to explain that she needed some more time before returning. The only problem was she was not sure she could even explain it to herself.

Reaching the infirmary, she put aside her musings for another time. Per usual, Simon was there attending to one thing or another, and she put on a pleasant face as she glided in.

"Good morning, Simon," she greeted.

"Oh, good morning."

"I was wondering if I could borrow a few things from you."

"I guess that depends on what it is. We're running short on some things, but I'll do my best. What do you need?" Inara browsed the infirmary as if she was shopping. She spied a basin and grabbed it.

"This will do."

"Okay…" Simon watched her askance.

"Do you have some scissors? Sharp ones, preferably."

"Yes. They're surgical shears," Simon produced the scissors from a drawer.

"Perfect," Inara reached for them, but Simon did not hand them over.

"What do you need them for?"

"Feminine things," she flashed a coy smile in response.

"Uh, like what, exactly?"

"Simon, women are a mystery. Do you think I'll tell you our secrets just because you asked?" She plucked the shears from his grasp while he stood by looking perplexed. She strode out of the infirmary in a swirl of silk.

"Wait… have you seen River?" Simon called after her a moment later. "I saw her come downstairs a while ago."

"Yes, she's in my room."

"Oh. I wanted to talk to her."

"We're occupied at the moment," Inara turned with a smile that was pleasant and as much a barrier against intrusion as a solid steel wall.

"Oh. Um… what are you doing?"

"Like I said, feminine things. You wouldn't be interested." Simon's brow wrinkled up tight and she could guess what was going through his mind. Despite the curiosity which must have been eating him up, she knew he was too embarrassed to ask for more details, and too proper to snoop on his own. It was quite a dilemma for him, and she only just managed to keep from laughing. "I'll send her to you when we're done," she smiled graciously and slipped into her room, shuttering the door behind her.

* * *

"I think I managed to convince Simon to leave us in peace for a while," Inara said when she returned. River caught the gist of what happened from her thoughts and laughed. Simon was a prude most of the time.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Let's get started." Inara dimmed the lights. "Just to help you relax," she explained. "Now, lay your head back a little." River felt the gentle pressure of the Companion's hands on her temples, guiding her head. They were warm, soft, and smelled lovely. Protecting her face, Inara poured some of the pot of water over her hair. Her head grew heavy as the water soaked in. While her hair dripped into the basin, Inara fussed with something behind her back. River heard her hands rubbing together and a fragrance she identified as jasmine touched her nose. Then the Companion began gently kneading her scalp. "I have done this for clients on occasion," Inara mentioned as she rubbed. "Some find it highly relaxing and sensual." River completely understood why. Her eyes closed as she melted into Inara's gentle scrubbing. After a few moments, another pot-full of water streamed over her head. She felt the gentle tug as Inara wrung her hair out and then draped the wet strands over her shoulders.

"Now," Inara considered, coming around her, "I think we should keep a little length. Maybe just about here." She slipped two fingers around a strand to show what she had in mind. "That way if you decide you don't like it, you still have options." River nodded, going along with the Companion's assessment. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Inara asked one last time.

"Yes," River affirmed. The Companion disappeared behind her again, and with the soft _snip_ of the scissors, began carving away the strands. River envisioned each lock falling away. Every little bit was a part of her. _It's dead. Just a chain of protein molecules_, she rationalized. However, she could not help but feel like a snake shedding its skin, or a cygnet molting into a swan. She wondered what she would find underneath, and found the prospect both thrilling and scary.

"Kaylee has been spending a lot of time with your brother lately, hasn't she?" Inara started making conversation.

"Yes." River did her best not to intrude on Simon and Kaylee, but it was hard not to catch flashes of things she was not supposed to see or hear. She never said anything. It did not embarrass her, and Kaylee did not seem too concerned, but Simon would be mortified if he found out. "Kaylee likes him very much. I don't think he understands."

"It looks like he likes her very much, too."

"Yes, but he still worries about me. He can't be with her like he should because he has to watch out for me."

"It's not your fault, sweetie. You shouldn't blame yourself."

"He does," her response turned distant and cool, her shoulders drooping just a bit. River knew Simon would never intentionally fault her for keeping them apart. But on some subconscious level that he was not aware of, he did. "I kept him from her for so long. He wasn't able to see it. When you care for someone, you should be able to tell them, right?"

"Yes, I suppose you should. But life doesn't always work out that way," Inara's response carried the weight of experience.

"Like for you and the captain? You speak to each other, but you don't listen," River detailed her earlier confusion over their relationship, or lack thereof. "You should just say what you mean and…" She halted mid-sentence, realizing that Inara had abruptly stopped clipping. A mild storm of emotions from the Companion battered her and she winced a little. She had spoken without considering that she was violating Inara's privacy by doing so, and Inara was more than a little upset. "I'm sorry. I… I didn't mean to," River apologized awkwardly.

"It's all right," Inara answered after a long second of uncomfortable silence. "My profession makes it complicated to have a… more than a limited relationship with anyone," the Companion explained, soothing her anger down while she resumed clipping. The conversation dwindled into silence again and River berated herself for her lack of consideration. Why did she have to feel everything? Why was she able to tear apart what should have been the mind's armor, shattering it into scything blades that cut and slashed? And yet she had no armor of her own. She was always vulnerable, always open. It was not fair. She never wanted to be like this. _But they didn't leave me a choice_.

Closing her eyes, she swallowed her pain down and called into her mind the image of her recently painted room. She carefully reconstructed each blossom and vine from memory, but instead of lifeless drawings on the walls, she brought them to life in a sunlit garden. She let her imagination flesh out the vision fully, adding the play of shadows and delicate fragrances carried on a light breeze. Forgetting outside reality for a while, she let her imaginary self stroll through the garden, feeling the damp grass between her toes, while cataloging each of the flowers she had planted there. Here was a place of peace where she did not have to worry about stumbling through others' thoughts or being confronted by apparitions from her past. It was a technique she had taught herself at the Academy, and was one of the only things that managed to keep her from going completely insane during her tortuous stay.

"Well, I think it's about done," Inara's words broke her trance after an indefinite space. The interruption was mildly jarring, so deeply had she ensconced herself in the vision. She blinked her eyes several times, disoriented as the vibrant colors and scents faded into ghostly afterimages. "Are you all right?" Inara asked, noticing her disorientation. River nodded in silence. "I don't have a mirror, but you can use the one in the latrine," Inara suggested. As she whipped off the robe and shook it out, River rose from the chair and hurried out of the room. She went to the latrine and closed the door. Standing before the mirror in the closet-sized room, she kept her head down for a few moments, still trying to settle herself back into reality. Even after she felt solid again, she did not look up right away. She realized she was stalling. She was actually a little afraid to see how she looked.

_Don't be foolish. Look_, she ordered herself. Taking a deep breath, she forced her eyes to the mirror… and gasped. The transformation was radical. About ten centimeters of her hair was missing. It reached to just above her shoulders now. Without the extra length to weigh it down, more of its natural wave came out, framing her face with dark ripples. But the real shock was what it did to her overall appearance. She looked older and more mature, much more like a young woman than the girl she was used to seeing.

"Is it all right?" Inara called from outside a moment later.

"Yes, I think so," she replied with uncertainty through the door, still staring at her reflection. She could not get over how much different it made her look. She chanced a small smile, and was even more shocked at how it transformed her. She was looking at someone else, someone new. But that was what she had wanted, right? She smiled more broadly, then laughed at the absurdity of it all, the tension of a few moments ago now forgotten.

"River? Do you like it?"

"What does she like?" she heard Simon ask.

"I think your brother would like to see." River could almost hear the suppressed smile that had to be on Inara's face, and butterflies danced in her stomach.

_What will he think?_ There was only one way to find out. She turned to the latrine door and cracked it open just slightly, then a little more, and a little more. Finally she emerged, standing very awkwardly in the doorway.

"River… wow." Simon's comment was sparse, but the reaction on his face set her beaming.

"It looks beautiful," Inara concurred. "It complements your face perfectly."

"Yes, it looks… great," was all her brother could muster, but she knew he meant it.

"Thank you. Do you think it's enough?" she asked Inara.

"Yes. I think it makes you look like a different person." River beamed even wider.

"It really does," Simon agreed. "Uh, why did do it?" Simon's question carried some ambivalence about her decision.

"I thought if I was going on the job with the captain, I should try not to be recognized," she explained.

"Oh. Good idea," said her brother, obviously relieved of whatever his concern had been.

"River, you wanna come on up to the bridge?" the captain's voice crackled over the intercom. With another smile for each of them, River took off up the stairs.

She passed Jayne coming out of his bunk as she practically skipped across the foredeck. He stopped and swiveled his head to follow her darting form.

"What the… whoa, girl! What've you done to yourself?" River spun around, walking backwards for a few steps so Jayne could get a good look at her.

"Can't you tell?" she lilted. Jayne screwed up his face, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

"I don't know. Can't put my finger on it, but you done somethin' alright. Look different. Don't hardly look like you no more." She rolled her eyes at him and leaped up the bridge stairs.

"Captain," she greeted and slid into the copilot's seat.

"There you are. We're… whoa!" he jerked back when he saw her. She grinned. "You cut your hair."

"Yep." She started activating her displays.

"Huh. Who did it for you?"

"Inara."

"Inara cuts hair?" Mal asked. She shrugged. "Well, what inspired the… ah, change?"

"I thought it might make it harder for anyone to recognize me, since I'm going with you."

"Well, I'd say it worked. Hardly look like the same person."

"Thank you," she glowed at his remark.

"Now, pay attention," Mal shifted to all business. "We're comin' up on Paquin. I ain't gonna let you land us, but you're gonna watch and learn. First, you got your port procedures, then your entry, and finally the touchdown. Each one of them's important and you don't wanna forget…" Although she knew very well how to land the ship, she let Mal have his fun at playing teacher. He droned on the entire way to the surface.

* * *

"Here you are. Thank you," Inara handed the shears and basin she had borrowed back to Simon. He was still standing around the commons, looking like he was trying to puzzle something out.

"That was what you meant by 'feminine things?' Cutting her hair?" he asked her as he took the items.

"What else did you think I meant to do with scissors?"

"I… well, uh…" Simon stammered, blushing. She shook her head with a knowing smile and started for her room. "Inara," his call stopped her and she turned politely. "I wanted to ask… I mean, I know it's not really my business, but… well it sort of is…" He shifted uncomfortably and she waited for him to sort out his words from his embarrassment. "Has she… River, I mean… ever come to you, you know... with… about… anything?" Inara held a level gaze at him for a few seconds, causing him to redden again. Then she smiled confidently.

"A Companion does not discuss her clients, Simon." She turned and continued on to her room, leaving the doctor with a mindful of unanswered questions.

* * *

_fa feng_- goes crazy


	4. Chapter 4

The groans and creaks of entry still echoed through _Serenity_'s hull as she settled planetside for the first time in nearly two months.

"Kaylee, you comin'?" Mal hollered into the engine room as he headed for the rear stairwell with River in tow.

"Keep your pansy-pants on, Cap'n. Gimme half a chance to get her powered down," Kaylee shot back. River tittered.

"That 'pansy-pants' _gou shi_ is gonna get real old real fast," Mal warned while scowling at River. He hustled his young pilot down the stairs to the common area where the rest of the crew had already assembled.

"So, what's the plan?" Jayne bugged him right away.

"As soon as our mechanic gets down here, I'll fill y'all in on it," Mal answered brusquely. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall by the infirmary to wait on Kaylee. She skittered down the stairs a few moments later, wiping a sleeve across her sweat and grease-stained brow. "'Bout time," Mal eyed her as she passed. She glared back at him and was about to make some comment in return when she noticed River.

"Oh! You cut your hair!" she exclaimed, instantly forgetting Mal's words. River nodded, smiling. "Wow! It looks so different! But pretty, too," Kaylee fawned.

"Thank you," River replied. "Inara did it."

"Really?" Kaylee turned to the Companion. "Can you cut my hair, too?"

"Maybe sometime, _mei mei_," Inara returned with amusement.

"That'd be shiny."

"Excuse me," interrupted Mal. "Can we have the hairstylin' conversation some other time? We got work to do here."

"Hmph! More like Cap'n Grumpy-pants," Kaylee muttered and screwed her face up into a scowl mimicking his annoyance. That elicited chuckles from the others. Even Zoe smiled a little. Mal ignored the mocking and launched into his explanation of why they were here.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Paquin," he started. "Here's how it is. I know this is the Verse's playground and such, but we are not here to play. We're here to find work. That means no shore leave." Groans, mainly from Jayne and Kaylee, erupted. Mal held up a hand to still them. "Complain all you want. Ain't happenin'. No one leaves the ship without my or Zoe's express permission, and even then not by themselves. I don't think I gotta remind you what we all went through. The government's man may have let us go, but that don't mean he speaks for everyone in the Alliance. I don't expect 'em to come lookin' for us out here, but no sense in riskin' it." Mal paused to glance around at his crew and make sure they understood his orders. From the suddenly sober looks on their faces, they did. "Now, we're set down on the edge of town where the meet with Ving, our contact, will take place tonight. It'll be Jayne, River, and myself. Zoe, you'll have the ship." A mildly surprised look settled on his first mate.

"Sir, are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes I am. You hold the fort." Zoe's face darkened and she crossed her arms, a clear gesture that she did not approve, but she did not question the decision further. "Meantime, there's chores to be done. I want lists of any supplies we might need so we can get 'em 'fore we depart. Jayne, check how our ammo's holdin' up. Zoe, take an inventory of our consumables. Doc, you got the infirmary. Kaylee, gimme a standard inspection and see if we're short any spare parts that might leave us driftin' without 'em. Have River help you. Money's tight, so necessities only. Let's get to it," Mal dismissed them. The gathering broke apart and his crew drifted off to various parts of the ship to take care of their respective tasks. Mal turned to head upstairs, his thoughts dwelling on his own assignment- reviewing _Serenity_'s ledger. With nigh on four months without a job he was not too keen to find out just how tight their reserves were, but it had to be done.

"Um, Mal?" Inara's voice halted him partway up the stairs. She was the only one left in the commons now, hovering there almost out of place. "Did you need me to do anything?" she asked, demure. Mal realized he had completely forgotten about her. He was so used to her taking clients on a world like this and setting her own schedule that it never even crossed his mind that she was no longer in a position to conduct her business on _Serenity_.

"Uh… well, you know _Serenity_ as well as anyone. Just… help out whoever needs it, I s'ppose," he floundered to find something for her to do.

"Oh. Okay," she agreed, but her eyes turned downward. Stabbed by guilt, Mal quickly attempted to change subjects.

"_Ahem_… so, been in touch with the training house yet?" Inara shook her head.

"I haven't. I still haven't decided."

"Uh-huh. Well, when you do, just let me know. I don't mind makin' a stop for you, you know." Mal felt heat rising up his neck to his cheeks as he spoke. Inara gave him a half-embarrassed, half-guilty nod and quickly exited the commons which had grown uncomfortably warm all of a sudden. After a second, and not wanting to give the feeling any more thought than that, Mal shook away the awkwardness and got about his duties as well.

* * *

_Silence. Deafening silence. The knife made no noise as it was thrust towards her. She grabbed the wrist connected to the hand that held it and twisted. _No! Stop! _she shouted at the same time, but her voice did not carry. Neither did her body listen, but continued twisting, guiding the blade still in her attacker's grasp into another assailant coming from behind. The stabbed man's mouth opened in a soundless scream and he crumpled to the ground. More attackers came after her, surrounding her. Somehow she knew they were the enemy and that she must kill them all, but that made no sense. She did not know what she was doing or why. _Wait!_ she shrieked with all her might, trying to sort through her confusion, but her body still did not obey. It went on the offensive, spinning and slamming her boot into the face of the man with the knife. Blood and saliva sprayed. It should have been too dark to see it, but every droplet stood out in the strange blue-white glare that did not seem to come from any source in the room. A gun came at her next and she dodged to the side, grabbing the arm of the man wielding it. As he fired the weapon, she aimed it expertly at another of the attackers hiding behind her, the shot striking him in the chest. Still in control of the gun, she lashed a kick into an oncoming attacker, flipping him onto his back. The owner of the gun used the distraction to swing at her with his free fist, but she ducked and landed a punch in his gut. He doubled over and her elbow impacted his nose with the squelch of crushed bone and cartilage. Then she spun away, wrenching the firearm from his grasp and planting a ferocious roundhouse kick to his head in one smooth move. He fell and did not get up. There was only one of them left now. The gun was in her hand, pointed him, but he had a pistol trained on her from above. They stared at each other in a standoff. The captain's face, stark and pale in the odd light, stared back at her through her gun's sights. His weapon did not waver, but he hesitated to fire. She took the opportunity. _No! He's not one of them!_ she tried to stop herself, but despite a desperate effort her finger inexorably squeezed the trigger. Before the hammer fell, though, Simon suddenly appeared from the darkness on the edges of the room. _Simon! Help me!_ she cried. His lips formed silent words. Blackness swirled around her and suddenly she was falling down, down, down. The darkness drew her under and she screamed._

River shot up in her bed, gasping. Her voiceless scream still rang in her head, but her throat felt as raw and tight as if she had been doing the real thing. Heart hammering in her throat, she instinctively swept her eyes over her surroundings. The pastel petals decorating the walls and the lingering smell of paint assured her she was in her bunk. Her marathon pulse rate started to slow and her chin sank to her chest, eyes closed. She stayed that way for at least two minutes, taking deep breaths until her body's rhythms were back to normal. Only then did the aching in her hands register. She opened her eyes and looked down at them, realizing she had her sheet in a death grip with both fists. Wincing from the stiffness, she uncurled her fingers and released the covers.

"River, you up yet?" the intercom by her bedside suddenly burst to life with Mal's tinny voice. She uttered a short shriek and her hands reclaimed their vice-like hold on the bedclothes, her heart rate skyrocketing once more. "River?" Mal called again.

"I'm awake," her voice was just a croak.

"Well get yourself movin' 'fore I leave without you," Mal ordered.

"Yes sir," her reply was stronger, but far from steady. The intercom clicked off and she shuddered. Her chest, clammy with sweat, was already turning sticky as the dry, recycled air sucked the heat and moisture away from her skin. Trembling both from the chill and the unspent adrenaline pumping through her system, she stumbled to the sink and soaked her face in the cold water, letting the shock of it run the nightmare images from her mind. That was the Maidenhead, she knew. She had a clear enough recollection of the place initially, before they triggered her. The rest she had gathered from Simon and the others afterward. But that was no second-hand perception this time. She knew the difference well enough now. So where had the memory come from, then? Had she repressed it? Been forced to forget? It did not make sense if it had been in her brain this whole time, yet she could not access it. What had caused it to reveal itself now? Toweling off, she caught a glimpse of herself in the tiny mirror above the sink and froze. For a second she did not even recognize her own reflection. In that brief space, she swore she saw someone else. Eyes, hard and emotionless, locked onto her own. There was no trace of softness to the lips, just a cold line without compassion. The shorter hair did something to accentuate those features. It was a face that knew no remorse and did not give killing a second thought. It was the face of the girl in the dream, murdering those men and very nearly the captain as well. It was her face. She was the one responsible for those deaths. She knew that from the others' recollections of the incident, but to see it from her perspective for the first time, to know and have it confirmed by her own memory… "No," she gasped, backing away from her reflection, but the face did not change. "No!" She tore her eyes away. She stood for a minute or more with her back to the mirror, shivering, afraid to turn around, afraid she might see it again. _That's not me_, she told herself, closing her eyes. She knew it was true. Simon had told her. Everyone had told her. It was not her fault. The Academy had done it to her. She could no more control their conditioning than any other bodily reflex. But then why on some gut, instinctual level did she not believe it?

Fury, hot and unreasonable suddenly burned away her fear. She ripped open the drawers beneath her bed and pawed around until she found the dress she had been wearing that day. Anger seething, she snatched it up and tore it with her bare hands. _Why!_ She ripped the cloth to shreds as her mind tried to rip the memory from her consciousness. _Why did they do this to me?_ In a few seconds, it was over. She was breathing hard, and the dress was nothing more than scraps on the floor. She stared at them for a few seconds, surprised and even a little frightened by her own vehemence. Then gathering some semblance of rational thought again, scooped up the pieces and threw them into the refuse chute. She returned to the sink without looking at the mirror and tore off her sweater and bra. Soaking the towel under the faucet, she wiped the sticky residue from her chest. Goosebumps quickly stood out on her naked torso and she started shivering again, but she did not care. She scrubbed her face down next, almost violently. The friction and cold brought her mind closer to normal. She used her discarded sweater to dry off and shuffled through the drawers once again for a new outfit. She came up with another dress, this one a silvery-gray and sleeveless. She slipped off her skirt, put on a clean set of undergarments, and slid the dress over her head. She found one of Inara's old robes that she had kept, silver and green, and threw that on as a cover. Then she dashed up her ladder, eager to escape from her room and the dark things lurking.

* * *

The waning light of the ruddy protostar Heinlein set the sky of Paquin ablaze in reds and lavenders in some places, bruised violet and deep purple in others. The system's distant primary star, Red Sun, or _Zhu Que,_ was already at some elevation above the eastern horizon. It shone bright crimson in the sky, but only provided slightly more light than both of the planet's tiny moons. In the deepening twilight, Simon watched Jayne, Mal, and River descended the loading ramp and disappear into shadows as they strode towards the little town beyond their landing site, its lights just beginning to come up. He heaved a sigh. Kaylee slipped next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Don't worry. She'll be fine. The Cap'n'll take care of her. He means it this time." Simon grunted and smiled without mirth.

"I remember what happened the last time you said that."

"Well things is different now," Kaylee turned him to face her, draping her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss.

"You're right," he said. "But I can't help worrying. I've been doing it for so long. I don't think I know how to not worry about her."

"Well, maybe I can help take your mind off it a little," she said, sweet and seductive, pressing closer to him. She drew his mouth down into a much longer, deeper kiss. His eyes closed as he tasted her lips. He reached his hand around the small of her back and squeezed her tight. She made a little growling sound in her throat. Then he broke away slowly. "Mmm," Kaylee grinned, eyes still shut. When she opened them, though, he was looking off into the darkness again where the figures had vanished.

"Simon," Kaylee turned his chin towards her.

"I know. I guess it's just… did she seem a little off to you?"

"Maybe a mite quiet, but that don't mean anything."

"Not just that, but… she seemed… different. I don't know. Maybe I'm still getting used to the new haircut. Or maybe I'm just overreacting at what happened the other night." Kaylee sighed and moved away a little. "Kaylee…"

"No, I understand," she said, trying but failing to keep all of the disappointment from her voice. "It's just, I thought we could spend some time together. Alone, you know. You wouldn't have to worry about River… or anything."

"I'm sorry," he trailed off, apologetic. He stuffed his hands into his pockets while his eyes wandered to her shoes. She was right, of course. And so was Mal. He could not fuss and worry over every minor shift in River's temperament. She had gotten better by all accounts. And despite his misgivings about the previous night's disturbance, it might have been nothing. He was a surgeon, not a psychologist after all. It was possible it was entirely healthy, a necessary part of the healing process. And deep down he could not deny that a part of him really hoped that was true for purely selfish reasons. Maybe he was the problem, feeling guilty and overcompensating with overbearing concern. In any case, what would more worrying about it accomplish tonight?

"I'll try," he said, raising his face to Kaylee's again. "I won't worry. Promise," he crossed his heart and smiled with effort. Kaylee shrugged and gave him half a smile. He looked out again, this time at the velvet sky, stars starting to appear in its creases. "How about this- let's sit outside and watch the stars come out. I'll get some food, you get the wine, and we'll have a little romantic dinner right out here."

"Really?" Kaylee pepped up.

"Really."

"Okay. But you get the wine," she poked him in the chest. "I'll make the food."

"Deal," he grinned more genuinely this time. He offered her his arm and they strode side by side back into the cargo bay.

* * *

River's eyes darted to and fro about the town, which was rather bustling for such a small backwater. People shuffled here and there, occasionally jostling her if she was not paying attention. Their thoughts jostled her, too, and she struggled with them, trying to ignore the jumbled mental conversations. In part that was good because it forced her to divert the bulk of her awareness to maintaining her control. She knew as she left the ship, though, that Simon had not missed the strain the recent dream-memory had left on her. As much as a boob as he could be about other things, when it came to her, not much escaped his perception. With faint annoyance she wondered if being a reader was hereditary. That might explain a lot about the bond they had shared since childhood. However, as far as she could tell, Simon did not have a lick of psychic talent. He was just an overly-protective brother doing what overly-protective brothers did. She almost walked into someone again and she shook her head as she skirted around him, trying to focus her attention on the immediate. Mal noticed her semi-distracted state and took her arm, drawing her close to him.

"You okay?" he asked near her ear. She nodded.

"I'm fine. Just a lot of noise." Mal regarded her skeptically. "I'm fine," she reiterated, putting more confidence into the statement. The captain released her, but she could sense his concern was not completely assuaged. Like Simon, Mal was a worrier, too. He just did not like to let it show.

As they neared the center of town, they paused to one side of the street. Jayne looked up and down its length.

"Where we headed?" he asked.

"Over there," Mal jerked his chin towards a somewhat squalid, one-story building across the way, squeezed between two equally squalid taller buildings. A faded, dirty sign proclaimed it _The Elephant's Tusk_ in both English and Chinese characters. The characterization of the establishment's namesake creature made River believe that the artist had never seen an elephant in his or her life. The three headed in that direction. "Remember, we don't use our real names," Mal spoke to both of them. "If anyone asks, I'm Captain Bill Roberts, and our ship is the _Roberts' Fortune_."

"Why'd you get to name the ship after yourself?" Jayne complained.

"Why does it matter? It ain't real anyways. If no one asks, don't worry about it. But in case they do, you gotta know what to say. Anyhow, Jayne, you go by Jim and River'll be…"

"Ariel," River interjected. Jayne scowled at her choice of names.

"Now why'd you go an' choose that for?" He spat to one side. "I done apologized for it already."

"Not the planet," she clarified. "The air spirit. Imprisoned in a tree, freed by Prospero and wanting to serve," she gave Mal a significant look. "It fits."

"Who?" Jayne asked. She tossed him a lopsided grin.

"Besides, Ariel is a boy's name."

"It is?" She kept smiling, and Jayne finally grinned in return. "Well, all right then… Ariel." With mock chivalry Jayne held open the door to the tavern, allowing her to step delicately through. Mal followed right behind them.

The floor of _The Elephant's Tusk_ was below ground level and they descended a small set of stairs to reach it. River took in the scene. It was already fairly crowded, folk milling about at the tables and starting to line the bar. Behind the counter was a stocky man with a shiny bald pate ringed by short black hair. Innumerable stains decorated his once white apron.

"Keep your eyes peeled, albatross," Mal muttered to her as he scanned the room. "And your brain, or whatever it is… just do your thing." She nodded silently. "This way," Mal led her and Jayne towards the bar. They pulled up stools a little ways down from the nearest patron. Mal folded his arms on the countertop and waited. Jayne spread out and slouched backwards against the bar, glancing around, but River sensed the alertness beneath his casual action. He was taking in the room, the people, and all the ways in or out, assessing possible threats and dangers. River did the same thing, figuring it made good sense. Maybe Jayne had never read Shakespeare, but he knew his way around a barroom brawl or two hundred. The bartender finally sauntered their way.

"What'll it be, folks?"

"Hi, Ving." The bartender stared a second at Mal before recognition struck.

"Hey, Mal!" he smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Shhh!" Mal hissed. "Not so loud. Don't want anyone other n' you to recognize me. I'm Captain Bill Roberts."

"Oh, got it… Bill," he issued a sly smile and a wink. "These yours?" he nodded to Jayne and River.

"Yeah. Jim and Ariel."

"Didn't know you had a daughter, Mal… er, Bill."

"She's not. New pilot."

"Pilot?" Ving leaned back, hands on his portly sides. "Why she barely looks old enough t' be outta grammar school."

"She's a real prodigy," Mal stated. Ving's gaze lingered over her, and his direct attention shot a flash of insight into her mind. River realized the bartender found her attractive and was having some distinct thoughts about her. Very distinct. She had caught Jayne leering at women more than once so she was not ignorant of what to expect, but to actually have that kind of attention focused on her was far more disturbing than she was prepared for. Shuddering, she turned away, repulsed by a feeling of almost akin to being groped, but mentally. She tried to concentrate on something else, not wanting to find out what other interests might be on the man's mind.

"Hmph. So, what happened to that fella Wash you had last time?" Ving asked, finally taking his eyes away from her. A heavy silence settled over them. River felt the sadness creeping up that was always there whenever Wash's name was mentioned. It was impossible not to occasionally feel his absence throughout the ship, especially around Zoe.

"Job went bad," Mal answered, which was as close to the truth as anything. Ving's smile disappeared as he understood.

"Oh, sorry. I thought Zoe seemed a bit harder 'n usual. How's she takin' it?" Mal shrugged. "Well, my condolences," Ving offered. "So, what'll it be?" he asked again.

"Whiskey," said Mal.

"Here, too," Jayne concurred. Ving's eyes went expectantly to River next. She looked down at the legs of her stool.

"Umm, I don't really…"

"She'll be fine," Mal answered for her.

"You ain't gonna let her drink?" Jayne cut in.

"I brought her along for a reason. Don't do no good if she can't think straight. And I'd expect an amount of moderation from you, too," Mal replied with a paternalistic eye.

"You know I ain't got a problem holdin' my liquor," Jayne snuffed with pride, though Mal's expression did not change. "But, c'mon, Mal…"

"It's_ Bill_," the captain emphasized with a glare.

"Sorry, _Bill_," Jayne corrected with a roll of eyes. "It's only one drink. How d'you know she don't want one?"

"I've never tried it before," River uttered quietly.

"There, see. She ain't never tried it before. You gotta let her have at least one," Jayne proclaimed, like it was some sort terrible punishment that River had never tasted alcohol and should be denied the opportunity now. Mal shifted his look to River, debating.

"Fine. One," he stressed to Jayne, holding up a finger.

"Shiny," Jayne flashed a devilish grin at her. "She'll have a whiskey, too."

"Three whiskeys," Ving repeated and head down the bar. Jayne continued grinning and chuckled a little to himself. He only got that look when he was about some mischief. River did not need to be a reader to know that much. But nor was she really able to determine exactly what surprise he had waiting for her. That made her more than a trifle apprehensive about the whole thing. Ving returned a short moment later with three small glasses full of the brownish liquid. River picked up hers and slowly scrutinized it.

"It's whiskey, girl. You know what whiskey is?"

"An ethanol mixture distilled from the fermentation of grain," she answered, still staring at it.

"Yeah… well, lookin' at it don't do nothin' for you. You gotta drink it. But you gotta do it right, see?" She watched Jayne demonstrate. "You gotta take it down in one swallow, like this." Throwing his head back, Jayne dumped the alcohol into his mouth and gulped. He slammed his glass on the bar and hissed, eyes squinty. "Now that's good whiskey." He turned to River with that impish grin again. "Your turn." Hesitant, River studied her drink some more. "Well, c'mon," Jayne pressed.

"Ja… I mean, Jim," Mal cautioned, his own glass still full.

"Aw, Cap'n. She's gotta try it," Jayne smiled loosely. Mal shook his head and downed his glass as well. Feeling Jayne's expectant eyes on her, River finally gave in to the pressure. Tilting her head back, she paused with the glass in the air, and then poured the whiskey into her mouth. As soon as she swallowed, the liquid turned to fire and burned her gullet all the way down. Eyes wide, she gasped and began coughing and retching, clutching at her throat. Jayne laughed. "Thatta girl!" He pounded her on the back which made her eyes water even more than they already were.

"It burns!" she rasped, staring incredulously at Jayne, wondering how he had not been affected by it.

"It's 'spposed to," Jayne confirmed. "You get used to it." River doubted she ever wanted to get used to _that_. She coughed some more, surprised by the very strange, hot feeling in her belly. It was still burning even inside her. "You want another?" Jayne asked.

"No!" she spat emphatically.

"Come on. Ain't doin' you no good to sit around at a bar an' not drink."

"I said one," Mal reminded him. "Besides, she didn't even like it."

"That was just to get initiated. It don't count. Just let her try somethin' else that maybe she'll like." Jayne persuaded. "Don't wanna leave her with a bad taste an' all."

"One more. That's it, then," Mal relented.

"Shiny. Whaddya say?" Jayne spun on his stool to River. She eyed him dubiously. "See, that's the spirit," he took her look for a yes. "Barkeep!" he hollered.

"So how'd you like it?" Ving asked, grinning as he returned. River shook her head and made a face. Ving laughed.

"Let's try somethin' less pow'rful. What d'you got that's girly-tastin'?" Jayne asked.

"Got some flavored rums. Mix 'em with tonic water and a little syrup and they're smooth and sweet as frosting on cake," he looked from Jayne to River.

"How 'bout it?" Jayne urged.

"Maybe not," River declined, although it at least sounded better than the fire-liquid whiskey.

"She'll have one," Jayne went ahead and ordered it for her anyhow.

"Comin' up," Ving called, moving down the bar to prepare the cocktail.

"An' another whiskey for me!" Jayne shouted to his back.

* * *

Simon and Kaylee had finished their frozen protein mush dinner and lounged in chairs next to each other. They each had a cup of wine, the jug resting beneath them on the ramp. Night on Paquin had truly fallen, though the colors of twilight still lingered on the very edge of the western horizon. Kaylee snaked her hand across the space between them and intertwined it with Simon's.

"You know," Simon started, eyes on the distant orb of Red Sun, "if it weren't for helioforming technology, this would be just a rock of ice. Instead, we got a beautiful planet with a beautiful sunset that I got to share with a beautiful woman." His face cracked into a silly little grin.

"Awww, that's sweet," Kaylee rolled her head towards him, beaming. "See, you can relax and be a sweetheart."

"Though it might just be the wine talking," Simon added. It was true, though. He had probably gone at least a half hour without worrying about River. Still hand in hand with Kaylee, his eyes drifted back to the sky to ponder the stars when a strange noise reached his ears. He perked his head up at the sound.

"What's that?" Kaylee asked, hearing it, too. Simon set his cup down and heaved himself out of the chair, feeling a temporary giddiness in his knees from the alcohol. Kaylee joined him a second later. The noise approached, slow and steady, but it was not until it was close enough to be illuminated by _Serenity_'s interior lights that they could make out what it was. Kaylee gasped in surprise and delight. An old-fashioned gypsy-style caravan plodded past them. There were four wagons in all, each drawn by a huge draft horse. The cloth covers of each wagon were a patchwork of bright colors and patterns, seeming without any purpose other than to be highly visible. "Now isn't that shiny?" Kaylee said taking a sip of her wine.

"What's out there?" Zoe's voice startled the two.

"Oh, Zoe, it's a gypsy caravan. Look!" Kaylee's delight did not spread to the first mate. Zoe took in the passing caravan with her usual stoic reserve. There were a few groups of people trailing behind it, and she considered them with a soldier's wary eye. They looked like regular folk to Simon. He saw no weapons present on anyone, nor any need for her vigilance. Eventually her stance relaxed a little, hand dropping away from the butt of her gun. "Oh, I gotta go get Inara. She'll wanna see this. Be right back!" Kaylee set her cup down and skipped off to find the Companion. Simon went back to his chair and picked up his drink. Taking a sip, he looked at Zoe over the curve of the rim. She was silent, closed, watching the caravan but not really seeing it. For the first time, he saw the hollowness in her eyes. Sharp pangs of sadness and guilt struck his chest. She had been little more distant recently, but he thought that was normal. After all, she had lost her husband in a rather violent manner. Now he saw that the distance hid a pain that was just below the surface, and he wished he had paid more attention. He wished even more that he could say something to help take it away. Zoe had steadfastly refused most every attempt by anyone to comfort her, even the captain. He hoped she was finding a way to deal with it on her own.

"Look at 'em, Inara," Kaylee bounced back onto the ramp, dragging the Companion by the arm. "Ain't they gorgeous?"

"They are very pretty," Inara agreed. The wagons had all stopped by this time, forming a little semi-circle not far from the ship. A few of the occupants milled about, tending the horses and such, while more regular folk seemed to be drifting in.

"Wonder what they're doin'?" Kaylee asked. An orange flare lit their faces and suddenly a fire sprang to life. A couple of figures piled on some wood, and it soon became a roaring blaze. The regular folk crowded around it, talking jovially and generally seeming to enjoy themselves. "Maybe they'll tell stories and such," Kaylee suggested. She was clearly enthused by the whole idea.

"I don't know. Maybe," Simon mused, finding his curiosity a little engaged as well.

"Wanna go?" Kaylee turned to him with eagerness.

"Huh?"

"Wanna go down an' see what they're up to?"

"Kaylee," Zoe cautioned.

"Aww, come on, Zo."

"Ghost stories and such aren't really my cup of tea."

"Okay. You don't have to come if you don't wanna."

"Cap'n doesn't want any of you goin' off by yourselves," Zoe reminded her with an arch look.

"Well, you could just sit and watch us from here. It ain't more'n ten meters from the ship," she suggested hopefully. Zoe stonewalled a few more seconds before issuing a defeated sigh that was almost a growl.

"Fine," she crossed her arms, nearly scowling. Then, in resignation, she dropped her arms and flopped into Kaylee's empty chair. "Might as well get comfortable," she grumbled.

"Shiny!" Kaylee beamed cheerily. "You comin' Inara?"

"No thank you, Kaylee. I'll just stay here and keep Zoe company. If you don't mind," Inara turned to the other woman. Zoe motioned wordlessly towards Simon's empty chair and Inara filled it.

"All right. We'll let you know what it's like," Kaylee reported. Then she took her wine in one hand and Simon in the other and walked towards the growing crowd.

As he and Kaylee got closer, Simon noticed people were taking seats on the bare ground around the fire, facing the train of wagons. Standing in front of the vehicles was a small cluster of what he presumed were the gypsies themselves. Their clothes were simple and no different from the audience, a sharp contrast to their gaudy wagons. All of them were holding instruments, though, and the muddled sounds of their tuning drifted over the crowd.

"Oh, they're gonna play for us!" Kaylee hissed. She found a spot near the front of the small crowd and dragged Simon down with her. She looked over each of the players, pointing out their instruments with childish delight. A piper, chipmunk-cheeked and sporting dreadlocks down to his waist, warmed up with some trills and scales. Two guitarists sat on stools near the back, leaning over their strings and tuning pegs. A hand drummer absently thumped random rhythms. A fiddle player, the only woman of the group, ran her bow gently over the strings, tuning each one as she held the instrument beneath her chin. A second piper, his long hair a crazy bush of dark curls, blew into something that looked and sounded like bagpipes. "Why's that guy wearin' a skirt?" Kaylee whispered to Simon, singling him out.

"I think it's a kilt," Simon corrected.

"A what?"

"A kilt. It's an ancient style of dress, worn by the Scottish people back on Earth-that-was."

"It looks like a skirt," Kaylee sniggered a little.

"It basically is," Simon shrugged. Then the random noises of the players died away and the crowd subdued as if on cue. The dreadlocked piper stepped forward into the light of the fire.

"Much thanks for comin' out to see us tonight," he welcomed everyone with a quiet, gravelly voice. "Please sit back and enjoy our show." That was the extent of his introduction. He fell back in line with the other musicians and, glancing to either side, raised his flute. He took a deep breath. Without hesitation and in perfect unison, the band joined in with him and began their first song. **§3.** It was a simple, mournful tune they played, carried by the lilting of the flute and the drone of the bagpipes. The drummer stayed silent, the guitarists only strumming with the chord changes. The fiddle blended with the timbre of the bagpipes so the two were almost indistinguishable.

The effect on the audience was immediate. There were no words, but the music spoke of memories. Perhaps it was the ancient melody, but it aroused more than just personal remembrances. It was history. There was a whole life in the song. Not just one, but many. Innumerable lives lived and died. It was a longing, an ache for things past and gone, but not forgotten. The crowd remained hushed, listening, wrapped in the music and their own emotions. The song itself did not last long, barely a minute and a half. But in that brief span, every man and woman had taken a journey through time into their past. The few seconds of silence after the band finished attested to the music's power. A log popping loudly in the fire eventually stirred some from their reverie. Polite clapping ensued.

"That was…" Kaylee trailed off.

"Sad," Simon finished for her after a space.

"Yeah. Sad. But not sad like crying sad. Sad like…" she could not find the words to finish, but Simon understood well enough.

_Sometimes there aren't any words for what you feel._ _That's what music is for._ River had said that to him once, back when she used to dance. Back a lifetime ago. The sadness the song stirred up took on a more personal meaning. A poignant hollow settled just below his sternum. River had been stolen from that life, and he had given up his trying to bring her back to it. Instead, they wound up on _Serenity_. There they found a refuge, a place safe… well, mostly safe from the Alliance where she could hopefully heal. That was all he wanted. And yet he had found something else, too. Something he never expected. Kaylee shivered and drew closer against him. Her warmth and nearness filled that hollow inside. His previous life was gone, but he had gained another. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth it. He wrapped his arms around Kaylee and she leaned back into his chest as the gypsies began the next song.

* * *

Mal watched over his two crew members at the bar with growing amusement. By now he had lost track of how many drinks Jayne and River each had. Jayne was still mostly coherent, but River was clearly well on her way to getting drunk for the first time in her life. He had truly meant to limit her intake to one, but after allowing her a second drink (as Jayne was right, the whiskey shot did not count), he noticed a change in her. She smiled more. She met people's eyes, and not in that creepifyingly intense way, but the normal way human beings did when in regular conversation. She listened to Jayne tell stories, and even chatted with Ving a little. And as the bar filled up, it became pretty clear there was little to worry about in terms of trouble. He did not need River to read the crowd to tell him so. These were all just regular folk out to enjoy themselves. So he had not protested when Jayne ordered another round for her, and another after that. Now she was laughing and smiling in a carefree way that he had never, ever seen in the girl. It was almost scary. What was even scarier, though, was that she and Jayne were behaving like best pals. He supposed alcohol could work miracles if it could make those two get along. He took a sip of his drink, enjoying the flavor and the sting of the liquor. No doubt he would incur Simon's wrath when he brought her back, but seeing River enjoy herself as she was now would make it worthwhile. He did not have the heart to take it away.

The place was packed now, and a band had even shown up and begun to entertain the patrons. The brisk business kept Ving on his toes so far, but as the band started in, he got a brief break in the action and wandered Mal's direction. They leaned their heads close so they could speak privately and to counter the noise around them.

"So, lookin' for work?" Ving surmised. Mal nodded.

"As long as it's payin' and it ain't near the Core, we're interested."

"Still stayin' out of the Alliance's way?"

"If I can help it." Mal took another sip.

"All right. I checked around and I think I got somethin' that might interest you." Mal listened. "There's this local casino owner. Runs the Trilogy, a bunch of floating gambling houses out on the ocean. He's got four of 'em."

"Anybody tell him four ain't a trilogy?" Mal remarked.

"I don't ask," Ving held up his hands. "Anyhow, the big boys didn't want no small time up-and-comer spoilin' their neighborhood and runnin' off their Core world clientele. They wouldn't give him a permit to build in the city, so he built a boat instead. Also, didn't care much for the hoity-toities and big fish from the Core. Focused on attractin' the well-to-do on the Border and the average John Q. Citizen. Soon he's got enough for another boat, and another. Then some of those big fish start migratin' his way. That gets the big boys' attention. So they declare war and do everything legal and elsewise to make his life _di yu_. He's tough, though. Got muscle and support of a lot o' the locals. Pays 'em well that works for him. Got loyalty."

"So what's the job?"

"The big boys got the ear o' the local politicians, so they got his shipments all tied up. Takin' weeks to sort through the forms and such. He needs someone who can slip through. Someone not local."

"Sounds do-able," Mal nodded.

"You up for it, then?"

"Yeah, I'm in."

"All right. He's gonna wanna meet ya so he knows who he's dealin' with."

"Can you set it up?"

"Will do."

"Thanks, Ving. This guy got a name?"

"Everyone just calls 'im the Gangster of Boats."

"What kind of _gorram_ name is that?" Ving just shrugged his shoulders. Mal shook his head and finished off his shot.

* * *

"Here y'are!" Jayne nudged River as he hopped back onto his stool. He handed her another tumbler brimming with she did not even know what. At this point, it did not matter, though. "_Gan bei_!" he shouted, raising his own full glass.

"_Gan bei!_" she cried in return, delighted. She downed half of her glass while Jayne took all of his in one gulp. She had gotten used to the burning as Jayne predicted. In fact, she did not even notice it anymore. All she felt was a warm, pleasant feeling in her stomach that slowly spread like little tingling fingers throughout her body. She had never had so much fun or felt so good in her life. When she was younger she had listened to her brother and his friends recount some of their tales of adventures, or misadventures, involving drinking. She always thought it was rather foolish for intelligent human beings to willingly imbibe something that made them do such things, especially when they usually seemed to regret them later. But now she was starting to understand. Furthermore, when she concentrated on it, she was astonished to realize that the voices in her head were gone. The emotions of the crowd still affected her, but they were almost uniformly enjoying the evening as much as she was. It was the individual conversations and snippets of thoughts that, in a large group like this, made her feel like she was being shouted at by everyone in the room that had disappeared. Well, not quite. In actuality they were still there, but they had retreated to an indistinguishable rumble that the merriment and music easily overcame. She could not say if it was the alcohol or something else that was responsible for it, but either way she reveled in it.

The band wrapped up another number to the raucous applause of the bar. River joined in with them wholeheartedly. Although she was not familiar with any of the songs so far, the band played with such enthusiasm that it was impossible not to enjoy them. They were simple and honest tunes, and she could not help but tap her feet or clap along with the crowd.

"Thank y'all very much!" the leader shouted into the microphone. "Wow, what a great crowd! Tell ya what, let's spice things up a bit. Any y'all out there musicians, come on up here. We'll have ya sit in for a song or two. Come on up!" the he invited everyone with a sweep of his hand.

"Jayne, you play guitar," River turned to him. "You should go."

"Aw, I don' know. I ain't never played with no band before, or in front of a crowd like this." He turned to the bar and drained another shot he had waiting for him.

_Is he being bashful?_ River stared at him in shock. Then a defiant expression grew on her face. What was the point of being a musician if one's music never got heard? She was not going to let that stand. She pounded down what was left of her drink and grabbed Jayne's arm.

"Come on," she tugged him bodily off his stool.

"Hey, watch it!" She paid his protests no heed and dragged him through the crowd. "Now hold on a second. I didn't say I'd do this."

"You're going to play," River shouted back at him over the noise. Reaching the edge of the stage, she shoved him forward. He stumbled into platform, throwing a displeased glare back at her.

"Evenin' mister. You wanna join in?" the band leader asked him from above. Jayne hesitated, glancing back at her one more time. She smiled encouragingly, if a little off kilter from the alcohol.

"Uh, I guess so," he shrugged.

"Shiny. Come on up here," the leader offered a hand and helped the big mercenary up to the stage. "What'd ya play?"

"Um, guitar."

"Acoustic, electrified?"

"Acoustic, I guess," Jayne's eyes were darting over the thronging crowd and River saw a little fear creeping into them.

"Here ya go," a battered dreadnought was thrust into his arms. Then, taking him by the shoulder, the leader pulled him into a little ring with the rest of the band to one side of the stage, just close enough for River to listen in. "Guys, this here's…"

"Uh, Jay… Jim. I'm Jim," Jayne managed to remember his alias just in time.

"Jim. Okay, Jim. So, what d'you wanna play?"

"Uh, I don't really know. I ain't played in a while, an' never with a band."

"S' no problem," the leader assured. "There's gotta be somethin' we all know."

"How 'bout this one," the drummer offered a suggestion that River did not recognize. "Sound good?"

"Yeah, I know it. But I'm not sure…"

"Relax, Jim," the band leader clapped Jayne on the back. "We'll start, an' you jus' join in whenever you feel like. Okay?" He returned to the microphone and the other musicians retook their places, leaving Jayne standing alone, still a little dumbstruck. "All right!" the leader shouted, recapturing the crowd's attention. "We got Jim up here with us," he extended a hand towards Jayne, "and he's gonna help us out on a little tune that I think y'all know." The crowd applauded. The leader swung his own guitar over his head and smiled loosely at Jayne. "One… two… three… four…"

**§4.** The song began with a reverse strum by the twelve-string player and a steady thump from the kick drum. The crowd roared and cheered in recognition. The band leader and picked a complex melody over the root while the bass player held the bottom line. They went through the main phrase twice before Jayne joined in, adding his guitar to the melody line. River saw how nervous he was at first, but he quickly settled into the rhythm of the song. People around her were stomping their feet and clapping to the driving pulse of the drum. Smiling, River joined in with them. The song shifted into a louder section with the electric guitar player screeching out some distorted lines. The crowd roared louder. Then it descended into quiet passage, a little more free form, where the electric player coaxed out a mellow solo. At the end of it, the main melody returned and carried the song through another verse. River was fascinated by Jayne's fingers as they danced over the fretboard. He was loose and smiling now, sharing grins with the other band members. It was an odd juxtaposition to see the guitar, looking so delicate in his huge arms, and yet hear the beautiful noises he called forth. River found a new notch of respect developing for him.

The song came to a close with a repeat of the chorus phrase that built in speed and intensity and ended with a crash. The crowd cheered their approval, and River heartily contributed. Jayne nodded his thanks, face cracked from ear to ear with a smile. The leader motioned him over to another meeting with the band. After a few seconds, the huddle broke apart.

"Jim's gonna do one more with us," the leader proclaimed. "So how 'bout some warm thanks. Jim!" Jayne received a rousing round of applause. In the darkness she could not be sure, but River thought she actually saw him blush. "Okay, this is another one you know," the band leader began his introduction. "It's an old one, but I don't think you've heard it like this before." He and the other guitarist had exchanged their acoustics for fiddles, while the keyboard player, who had been offstage for the last song, rejoined the group. "Okay, here we go!" the leader shouted. **§5.** A rising synthesizer sweep and crashing introduction of drums and bass led off the song. They were unfamiliar at first, but as soon as the fiddles jumped in with the melody, uproarious applause ensued. River instantly recognized the song, a traditional classic hundreds of years old from times on Earth-that-was. However, as the full band kicked in, she realized she had never heard it played like this before. It bounced and rocked and swung. Its energy enveloped the crowd. Out of nowhere, someone grabbed her elbow and flung her into a spinning promenade. Momentarily terrified, she quickly realized she had been caught up in a group that had started to dance. Laughing wildly, she allowed herself to be swept up with them. It was a simple country hoedown- stomping feet, clapping hands, slapping knees, and lots of bouncing and spinning on her toes. The old impulses, the freedom and joy she had always felt surged through her for the first time in she could not remember how long. Faces whirled by as she passed from one dancer to the next. They were all smiling, all completely wrapped up in the movements as she was. It was beautiful.

Halfway through the song the dancers halted to watch the musicians as each took on a spotlight solo. The fiddle players dueled with each other before resolving into a common theme which the whole band expounded on. Then the keyboardist took his shot with a dazzling series of runs and chords. Finally, Jayne stepped forward. His fingers flashed across the strings, plucking out an impossibly fast melody over just the bass and drums. River laughed and clapped, nothing short of impressed by the man's talent. The rest of the band rejoined with the pre-chorus phrase and extended it just a little longer, building the energy to bursting. River hurled herself into the renewed dancing, unaware that the crowd had left a small space for her. Her hair and her dress swirled around her as she leaped and twirled, only stopping when the music came to an explosive end. The crowd voiced its enthusiastic appreciation once more with hoots and cheers. Out of breath and dizzy, River found strangers coming up to her, complimenting her on her dance. Mildly embarrassed and more than a little drunk, she smiled shyly. Then room started to tilt a little too much for her to keep her balance. Fortunately, before she tumbled sideways, Jayne appeared and threw his arm around her.

"Damn, girl! I didn' know you could dance like that!"

"I didn' know you could play like that," she replied, words slurring. Her lips and tongue did not want to move quite right for some reason. It did not matter though. She was happy. Jayne led her back to the bar where she was grateful to find her stool waiting.

"D'ya see that, Mal?" Jayne asked, forgetting the captain's alias again.

"Yeah, I saw it," Mal had a slight smile for her.

"That was a mighty fine display o' talents there. Here, one on the house for each o' ya," Ving slid two drinks their way.

"Them's the last ones," Mal said.

"Aw, man. We's jus' startin' to have fun."

"We gotta get back some time." Jayne muttered something unpleasant that River could not hear. He turned to her and held up his glass in salute one more time. River did the same, though she wobbled a little and had to grab the edge of the bar to steady herself. They downed their drinks together.

"C'mon. Let's go." Mal rose and laid some bills on the counter. Jayne did the same.

"I gotcha covered," he said to River without looking at her. Any other time she would have protested his charity, but she was too woozy to comprehend at this point. As it was, he had to help her off the stool. She was giggling and clinging to him as he weaved behind Mal through the crowd and towards the door. Then they were outside, the cool air a bit of a shock, but also a relief from the heat of the bodies inside. With Mal in the lead, she and Jayne stumbled into the night, arm in arm.

* * *

The flickering firelight played an odd dance of shadows across the gypsies and their attendant audience. It had been a long time since Simon had seen that effect, and it brought back memories. Their parents had never been the outdoors type, but when they were younger, he and River had at least attempted to "camp out" in the yard of their estate a few times. He had also gone on a trip or two with friends while back in school. Not that there were many places to go camping on a planet like Osiris. It was impossible to completely escape the impingement of civilization. But even though he knew there was a village just a short distance away, out here where he could see the stars he felt like he and Kaylee were hundreds of kilometers from anyone other than this little group. He did not feel afraid, or even alone, though. He felt safe, comforted. It was like they and the rest of the crowd were some unique kind of family, bonded together in this particular place and time for this single event.

_Family_. That brought up another set of memories, ones that he had taken pains to mostly ignore. For the first time in a long time, he found himself wondering about his parents. What were they doing right now, beneath these same stars, but on another world half the Verse away? Were they still searching for their missing son and daughter, or had they given up? Did they even care? A small knot formed in his stomach when he recalled his father's warning about continuing his attempts to find River. He knew he was crossing a line, and that his father would not forgive him for it. If only he had been able to convince them, to make them see what he saw in River's letters. But they were blind to it, and now it was too late to change any of that.

**§6.** As if sensing his mood, the gypsies started into another song, this one also a sad tune. The flute player switched to a wooden whistle, its low, hollow keening the perfect vehicle to set the mood. The drummer entered next with a simple, syncopated beat that never wavered throughout. The guitarists joined in, playing a complex fingerstyle pattern at the introduction before descending into chords for the verse. The flautist sang first, his rough-edged voice not exactly musical, but not unpleasant, either. After the first verse, the female violinist added her voice in harmony. By contrast, it was sweet and pure. It fit with the natural, plaintive timbre of the flautist, complementing him perfectly. The song spoke of memories once again, this time of an old sailor, his prime long past and life at an end. As he recalled all that life had given and taken from him, he was preparing for his final voyage. It was a bittersweet story as the old man accepted his fate with both regret and hope. It ended the way it began, with the whistle fading down to silence, leaving only the drum to beat on alone.

Simon sat in silence, touched by the song and alone with his thoughts. Against him, Kaylee rested, breathing steadily. She was asleep. The clapping of the audience started her awake, though, and she sat up and stretched.

"Sorry," she turned to him with a yawn. "Guess the wine's takin' hold," she offered a slight smile.

"Yes," Simon murmured. He was also feeling drowsy from the wine, but contemplative as well. He wondered why all the songs the gypsies had played were so sad or regretful.

"Thank y'all again for your attendance," the flautist announced. "It's been a pleasure. If you've enjoyed the show, there'll be some of us comin' 'round so you can show your 'preciation. Thank you." Simon saw two of the gypsies wandering through the crowd with hats in hand. Every so often, someone from the audience would drop something in. He realized that must be how they lived, traveling and performing, collecting what they could from their audiences.

"Did you enjoy the show?" a pleasant female voice asked him. He looked up into the face of the fiddler standing before them. By the firelight, Simon saw her features were sharp and well-defined. She had a rather pointed nose and thin lips that nevertheless gave her a warm smile. Her blue-green eyes were the color of shallow seas, offset by long tresses of deep, deep auburn hair. She was attractive in a very natural sort of way.

"Oh, it was lovely!" Kaylee volunteered. "You sing so beautifully," she added with a hint of pining.

"Thank you," the woman replied. Simon looked at the hat in her hand and felt embarrassed that he had no money. He really wanted to give something. He untangled himself from Kaylee and rose.

"Um, I'll be right back, miss. I just want to go get something…" he pointed towards _Serenity_, with a look at her hat. She smiled again, also with a hint of embarrassment. Hoping she would not mind waiting, and that he actually had enough money to spare giving her something, Simon headed off at a jog towards the ship.

* * *

"Is that your ship?" the woman asked Kaylee as they both watched Simon disappear up _Serenity_'s ramp.

"Yep. She's my girl."

"You're captain?"

"Oh… no!" Kaylee laughed. "I'm just her mechanic."

"Ah. Have you been to many worlds?"

"Oh, everywhere," Kaylee waved her hand.

"That's wonderful. I've always wanted to travel the Verse but I've never been much farther than this."

"That's the way I was, too, before I joined her crew."

"How long have you been here?

"Oh, we just landed today. Cap'n's lookin' for work."

"I see. When do you leave?"

"Two or three days, I reckon," Kaylee answered, not at all put off by the woman's curiosity. "Wherever the job takes us. Mostly on the Border and the Rim, though. Cap'n don't much care for dealin' with the Alliance." She snapped her mouth shut over those last words, not sure she should have revealed that much. She covered her slip-up with a big smile. "Oh, here comes Simon," she spotted him trotting towards them. He pulled up a little breathless, dug some money out of his pocket, and shoved it into the hat.

"It was a… a very lovely concert," he said with some awkwardness.

"Thank you very much," the woman smiled gratefully. "Have a pleasant night, sir, miss." She nodded to each of them and continued her round.

"She's nice, and so pretty," Kaylee commented. "Simon, am I that pretty?"

"Yes, you are," Simon did not hesitate. Kaylee beamed and gave him a big kiss on the lips. Then she yawned. "I think it's time for bed," Simon said in response. "Zoe didn't look like she wanted to babysit us any longer."

"Mmmm. You gonna tuck me in?" Kaylee asked.

"Of course," he thumbed her nose and smiled.

* * *

At the head of the open ramp, Zoe slouched alone in her chair. The cool night air filtering in chilled her nose, but she hardly noticed it. Simon and Kaylee had promptly sequestered themselves in Simon's room once they returned. Not long after, Inara quietly collected her chair and disappeared as well. The gypsies' fire was just glowing embers now, and all of their audience had long since headed for home. She stared out into the silence, the occasional insect noise the only thing disturbing the night.

_It really is a nice night_, she remarked to herself, hoping to keep her mind off of other thoughts. She was tempted walk out and gaze up at the stars, but that would only be another reminder of what she did not want to think about. So she kept her eyes fixed out into the darkness, staring at nothing and trying to feel nothing. That was until the voices interrupted. She stood up rapidly, gun hand at the ready. They sounded rowdy, laughing much too loudly to be sober. She steeled herself for trouble. Out of the blackness Mal faded into being and her tension quickly eased.

"We're back. I'm gonna button her up for the night," he said, climbing the ramp.

"Roger that," she responded. "But where's…" Her words stopped cold when she beheld the sight before her. Emerging from the night, Jayne and River were laughing hysterically and practically falling all over each other as they stumbled aboard the ship. She had to rub her eyes to be sure she was seeing clearly. Mal was operating the ramp's controls and watching the two with a bemused smile. "Sir?" she stared at him with all manner of questions in that one word.

"They had a little too much to drink. Especially that one," he pointed to River.

"We jus' had ourselves a good time, didn' we Ariel?" Jayne announced loudly. River nodded, still laughing too hard to speak.

"Ariel?" Zoe threw another questing look at Mal. He just shook his head a little.

"What's going on out here?" Simon appeared in his pajamas, awakened by the noise and squinting the sleep out of his eyes.

"Simon!" River shouted with glee and tried to run towards him, but stumbled and fell. She broke into another fit of hysterics, Jayne joining her.

"River, are you okay?" Simon hurried to her aid, concern waking him up quickly. "What on earth…" His face screwed up as he knelt next to her, smelling the reek of alcohol that even Zoe could pick up a good dozen steps away. "Are you…" He spun to Mal. "Is she drunk?" he demanded.

"Just a little bit," Mal smiled.

"I can't believe this! You let her drink while you were out there!"

"Hey now, Doc. Back off some," Jayne intruded, trying to conjure up an intimidating tone. "She's had a good time. Was dancin' n' everythin'. Didn' know she could dance like that."

"You let her drink with _Jayne_!" Simon's incredulity shot up several notches.

"What's all the fussin'?" Kaylee stumbled out from the passenger area now, also in her pajamas.

"Jayne's right. She had a good time. I ain't never seen her havin' so much fun and enjoyin' herself as tonight. Maybe you oughta let her out more," Mal suggested.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened?" Simon fairly shouted at Mal. By this time Inara had appeared as well, taking in the scene from the common area doorway.

"Well, nothin' did," Mal's tone harkened the end of the discussion. "Now, it's late, and we all should get some shut-eye. Tomorrow might be a busy day. Go on, now." He shooed them out of the hold. Simon glared daggers at the captain as he helped River up and guided her towards the infirmary. Kaylee came to assist.

"What happened?" she asked Simon, their conversation trailing out of hearing as they left the hold. Inara disappeared back towards her room as silently as she had arrived. Jayne headed for his quarters as well, going up the foredeck stairs.

"G'night, y'all," he hollered to no one in particular.

"So…" Zoe turned to Mal after all the commotion died.

"Got us a prospect. Ving's gonna set up a meet with the client. Should hear from him by tomorrow." He started climbing the stairs. "You should get yourself some rest, too," he ordered her as he ascended out of sight.

"Yes sir," Zoe responded, but she did not move. The hold was silent again and she was alone once more. After a few more moments, she sighed heavily and followed after the captain.

* * *

**§7.** Each night she hoped it would be different. Each night it was the same. Sometimes she wandered down into the hold. Sometimes she sat in the mess. Tonight, she was on the bridge. She stood by the window, eyes on one of Paquin's moons. Her dark hands absently rested on one of the dinosaurs, now since permanently attached to the console. She ran her fingers over the hard plastic, hoping maybe to find some remnants of his touch lingering there so she could feel him once more. Then she stopped herself, realizing the futility. It was like this all the time, the desperate search for something to cling to, followed by the cold, harsh realization that there was nothing left. A shudder went through her and she closed her eyes, swallowing the emptiness back down into her stomach. She turned on her heel and silently made her way to her room. Climbing down, she closed the hatch, undressed, and laid on the bed. She stayed that way, awake but unmoving for so long that the lights shut themselves off automatically. Even in the darkness, though, the images in her mind still ran deep.

When she joined Mal, _Serenity_ was just a ship. His offer was the best option in a distinctly shallow sea of opportunities, so she followed him without much question, just as she had during the war. She had not even liked the ship at first. Neither had she liked _him_. But Wash had brought color and laughter and happiness to the dull gray walls. He also brought something else she had not even known she was lacking. After that, _Serenity_ was no longer just a vessel, she was a home. And Zoe was no longer just soldier and first mate; she was soldier, first mate, and _wife_, although not always in that order. She took on her new role with aplomb that even surprised her, and it awoke something else even more surprising that she never thought she would desire. But that dream died before it could be born, along with most everything else that had brought life to her world. The walls turned dull and gray again, except for the memories haunting them. And as bad as the bridge was, her bunk was much worse. The sheets still smelled like him, but the bed's emptiness was all too present, a painful manifestation of what was inside her. The entire ship was full of reminders that never left her alone. If she could just draw them out of the steel and circuits and form them into sinews and flesh, she would at least have something. But that was impossible. _Serenity_ was not her home anymore, but a prison, inescapable. She knew if she ever left, it would be to step out into the black and never return.

She rolled onto her side, eyes glassy. She wanted to pull the covers up over her head, curl into a ball, and cry. But she had too much pride for that. So she just lay there, staring at the wall, waiting for sleep. Unable to do anything else, she pictured Wash- his sandy blond hair, bright Hawaiian shirts, easy smile, and most of all, his laugh. She both cherished the memory and was tortured by it, but she could not stop it either way. She was desperate to capture anything that would remind her of what he was like, lest she forget the happiness she once felt. But that was just a memory as well. Even his ashes were lost to her, scattered to who knew what corners of that little satellite by now. Nothing remained except a pain with no remedy. She lay there, curled around the emptiness which sat like a stone at the very core of her heart. Sleep was a long time in coming.

**§3:** Eluveitie, "Samon (Acoustic Version)," _Slania_, 2008

**§4:** Victor, "Strip and Go Naked," _Victor_, 1996

**§5:** Robert Berry et. al., "Hoedown," _Encores, Legends, & Paradox: A Tribute to the Music of ELP_, 1999

**§6:** Nightwish, "The Islander," _Dark Passion Play_, 2007

**§7:** Dream Theater, "Wait for Sleep," _Images and Words_, 1992

1 _gou shi_- dog crap

2 _di yu_- hell

3 _Gan bei_- "Cheers!"; "Bottoms up!"


	5. Chapter 5

Simon was having breakfast when River blundered into the mess late the next morning. She was a wreck. He knew he could have given her something last night to avoid this outcome, but he was not at all pleased with what happened. He was still furious with Mal, but also a touch angry at her as well. If she was to be treated as an adult now, with enough function and sense, if not actual experience, to know better, then she would also have to accept the consequences. He thought letting her suffer a bit would be a better cure for overindulgence than any reprimand he could give her.

"Good morning," he greeted with mock cheeriness. She threw him a look that at any other time would have been a prelude to his death. Instead, she collapsed into a chair and laid her head on the table. Her dark hair spread around her in disarray. A moment later, Jayne strode in, looking no worse for the wear from last night. Simon had a glare for him, too.

"Mornin' Doc," Jayne said, nonplussed. He spotted River and grinned. "Looks like someone's got _suzui_," he addressed her. She flashed him an obscene gesture without raising her head. Jayne laughed.

"This really isn't that funny," said Simon.

"Oh, right, like you ain't been in her place before?" Jayne scoffed. Simon scowled. Certainly he had, but that was beside the point. "Look, ol' Dr. Jayne's gotta cure for ya," Jayne went on. River sluggishly raised her head, closing her eyes and wincing in pain. "What you need is a little hair o' the dog," he prescribed. Reaching into a cubby, he pulled out a cup and filled it with a draught of his own whiskey. He slammed the shot, then refilled the cup and placed it in front of River. She stared at it for a second, face greening. She made a gulping noise in her throat, clutched a hand over her mouth, and tore out of the dining area. Jayne relished a chuckle.

* * *

Coming down from the bridge, Mal sidestepped River, giving her a backward glance as she disappeared into her bunk in a hurry. "She okay?" he asked as he entered the mess.

"Just a hangover," Simon pronounced with a chilly look.

"Don't look at me like that," Mal retorted. "I said I'd take care of her. Brought her back safe and sound." "You have an odd interpretation of what 'taking care of' means."

"I ain't gonna hold her hand at every turn. I'm her captain, not her daddy."

"That you're not," Simon growled with controlled anger. He rose from the table and stormed out. Mal shook his head and smiled.

"Jayne," he turned to the big man. "Ving sent a wave a little while ago. Meet's set up with our client in three hours."

"Shiny. Who is it?"

"Don't know. Only name I have is 'Gangster of Boats'."

"That supposed to be intimidatin'?"

"Who knows? But you know the drill. Discretion the better part of not gettin' killed and all that."

"What d'you want?"

"Small arms. Somethin' concealable. Don't wanna invite trouble, but don't wanna get caught with our trousers in the sand." Jayne nodded. "Meet me in shuttle two. We got a long flight ahead of us. Best get goin' soon as possible."

**§8**. It took every bit of the three hours to reach the floating casino, even with Mal pushing the shuttle to the limit in terms of fuel. They landed on the rooftop pad and were met by two well-dressed, well-muscled guards who escorted them inside after a pat-down. Mal was less than comforted by his holster hanging empty at his side, but he was in someone else's house, so best to play by their rules. Their path through the boat's halls did not take them through the gambling floor, much to Jayne's dismay, but the rich carpet, finely crafted lighting fixtures, and the occasional piece of artwork was evidence enough that this was a proper establishment, not a backwoods bordello masquerading as such. The Gangster of Boats certainly had done well, if Ving's tale was true. The security thugs thrust open a set of double doors before them and ushered Mal and Jayne into a well lit office. Three walls were solid panels of glass, providing an unobstructed view of the ocean surrounding them. Jayne whistled low.

"Nice digs," he whispered to Mal. Mal had his eyes on the high-backed chair behind the desk, facing away from them. He could not see who was in it, but had not doubt it was the Gangster himself. The chair swiveled slowly round.

"Welcome, gentlemen," the occupant spoke, and Mal's eyes went wide.

The Gangster of Boats was a woman. She was diminutive, coming up short even compared to Kaylee, with long, straight blond hair and a cute button of a nose. She wore a simple white blouse, black slacks, and glasses. She looked more like a pretty secretary or accountant than a hard-bitten casino hustler. Her smile told of some inside joke she was taking in at their expense. "You'd be Captain Malcolm Reynolds," she stated, looking right at Mal. That shook him a bit. How in blazes did she know his real identity? Maybe Ving had slipped up and given it instead of the alias. It was not a good foot to start out on, his client knowing more about him than he did of her, but either way he had to play it cool and not let on that she had rattled him. If she knew she had an advantage, he would be humped on the terms of any deal he tried to negotiate.

"And you must be the Gangster of Boats," he replied smoothly. A charming laugh bubbled out of her slender throat.

"That is how most people know me. Although most of them don't know it's me they're referring to. Makes business run more smoothly in some cases. Wouldn't you say so, Captain?" she gave him a knowing look.

"I'm of a mind to agree."

"Shiny. And since it's clear I know who you are, I'll return the favor by letting you know who I am. You can call me Chrysabel," she stood from her chair and extended a hand.

"Pleased to meet you," Mal shook it firmly. "This here's Jayne," Mal thumbed. Jayne offered a slightly leering grin with his hand, but she only nodded at him. He frowned at the spurn.

"Now, have a seat, if you don't mind, and we'll talk," she completely ignored Jayne's displeasure and indicated to the two chairs arranged in front of her desk as she retook her seat. "I venture that you know some of my problem by either rumor or reputation." Mal nodded. "Good, then I won't bore you with more details that you don't need to know." Her convivial manner upon their introduction was gone, replaced by a brusque, business-like demeanor. She was obviously a woman who did not take any _gou shi_. Mal liked her already. "I run four casinos. That means I need food, flowers, linens, and all manner of goods to arrive on my boats on time, every day. Right now, that is not happening. If I contract with you, you understand that those are my expectations, whatever you are carrying for me. Excuses did not help me to build up the most profitable gambling franchise on the planet. I don't accept them from myself, and I don't accept them from those who work for me." Her eyes bored into each of them. "If you can accept that, I'll pay you a flat rate of fifty platinum per run plus expenses, and hazard pay if the shipment warrants it." Mal heard Jayne's sharp intake of breath. He blinked at the number himself. A slow smile spread across Chrysabel's face. "I take it that's a bit more generous than what you're used to."

"Well, it's uh… not bad," Mal scratched his head. Chrysabel smiled wider. "If your performance is satisfactory after six months, the rate will go up to sixty." Jayne leaned back, nodding and smiling.

"And if our performance ain't 'satisfactory', as you say?" Mal inquired.

"You won't find work in this quadrant again." It was not a threat, just a statement of fact.

"Uh-huh." Something did not fit right. He decided to press her motives. He leaned on the desk slightly. "You mind tellin' me what exactly you're playin' at here? Ain't no businessman, or woman, in the Verse gonna pay top money for what she can get for a rock bottom price unless she's a fool." That easy, disarming smile reappeared on her lips.

"You may be the bottom of the barrel, Captain, but you have a reputation. And that reputation tells me that Malcolm Reynolds makes good on his word. He doesn't like complications. We're of a like mind here. While I could hire any bottom-feeder for a fraction of what I just offered you, I'm willing to pay a small premium to avoid the… complications those types necessarily bring along. Consider yourself a diamond in the rough." Mal linked eyes with her for a long time. She was ruthless, she was calculating, and she was shooting straight as far as he could tell. She wanted Mal to be her runner, and she had obviously done her homework. He was not completely at ease with it, but he could hardly pass up the opportunity of fifty platinum flat. His face broke into a grin.

"Miss Chrysabel, I believe we have a deal." Chrysabel grinned back, openly pleased.

"Excellent. I've got your first job ready for you. Here's an advance on the expenses." She reached into a drawer of her desk and tossed Mal a pouch of coins. He opened it. It contained twenty platinum.

"Well, I must say you're a right generous and trusting woman," he opined.

"I'm a practical woman. I know you need that to get your ship ready for the run. Call it insurance, if you'd rather. But I will collect on my claim if you don't hold your end of the bargain," she warned. Mal did not doubt her words.

"So, what's the job?"

"Expanding my clientele means expanding the luxuries I offer aboard my boats. I've been importing caviar from New Melbourne for some time now, but my shipments of late have been impounded or 'lost' in customs. I aim to resolve this problem by becoming my own supplier. Of course, it is illegal to transport species between worlds," her lips twisted in a smile.

"Of course," Mal said in understanding.

"I've purchased my own school of sturgeon, complete with a fifty-four thousand liter aquarium in which to transport them. Can your ship handle that?"

"That's within our capacity."

"Good. Then I will tell my contact to expect you when?"

"With a day to get prepped, call it ten days." Chrysabel frowned.

"I was expecting perhaps a little more in terms of speed."

"Might be able to shave a little off with some creative navigatin'. Got a whiz of a pilot, good at that sort of thing. We'll get your fish here."

"Very well, Captain. This is my wave code," she handed Mal a slip of paper. "I best let you go prep for you trip." She pressed a button on her desk. The security thugs outside opened the doors again.

"It's been a pleasure," Mal rose and tucked the paper in his pocket. She nodded in dismissal and he turned and followed Jayne out.

* * *

Once the two men were safely beyond her office doors, Chrysabel brought up her com station and pressed the page button.

"Ma'am?" a youngish man with a sharp fringe of brown hair hanging over his forehead appeared on her screen.

"Update me, Sellers."

"Yes, ma'am. So far our reconnaissance says they're right outside the town of Hawthorne. Arrived there yesterday."

"Are you sure it's them?"

"Yes, ma'am. Pretty sure."

"You have to be positive, Sellers. If you're not, you're wasting my time."

"I understand, ma'am. I'm positive."

"Good. Stay on top of them. Let me know immediately if anything changes."

"Yes, ma'am." She turned off the screen. Then she logged into the Cortex and brought up the latest Alliance security bulletins. At the top of the list was the one she wanted. She typed in the wave code listed and waited for a response.

"_Ni hao_, Fugitive Task Force Central."

"I'd like to report the whereabouts of a known fugitive."

"Location?"

"Paquin," Chrysabel's eyes glittered with greed as they roved over the reward amount, emblazoned in large numbers on her screen. One million credits. This would be the biggest payoff of her gambling career.

* * *

"Woo hoo! Fifty platinum flat! _Gorram_ it, Mal!" Mal did not join in Jayne's whooping celebration, but he smiled nonetheless. It seemed they had finally found some steady, well-paying work. He was still struggling to believe the good fortune of it. Call it cynicism, but good fortune always left him distrustful. Chrysabel seemed a level player, though, and if she made good, they might just be able to live normally instead of bouncing from one end of the Verse to the other, barely scraping by. Paquin was as good a place as any to set down some roots if they wanted to. He reached for the com to wave Zoe as the shuttle lifted off of the landing pad.

"Sir?"

"Zoe, start gettin' her prepped. We lift off tomorrow at 0730 for New Melbourne."

"We got a job, then?"

"More 'n that. We got a contract," Mal grinned. "I'll give you the details when we're back on the ship. Meantime, I want everything gotten ready to go. I got a little spendin' money for supplies," he jingled the pouch in his pocket, "so we'll get that taken care of, too."

"You got an advance on the job?"

"That's right."

"Sir, this don't smell right."

"That's what I thought at first. But this Gangster, she understands our value. Doesn't like complications. She even called me a diamond in the rough," he boasted.

"She?"

"Yes, she."

"Called you a diamond in the rough?"

"That's what she said."

"Remind me never to buy jewelry from her."

"Just get her prepped."

"Yes sir."

"See you in a few hours."

* * *

Zoe closed the wave screen after Mal signed off and marched down from the bridge. She worked her way downstairs to the common area where she found everyone except River at the little table playing cards and looking excruciatingly bored.

"Let's look alive," she called, hopping down the stairs. "Cap'n got us a job. Need to be ready for liftoff at 0730 tomorrow."

"Finally, somethin' to do besides lose to Inara," Kaylee grumbled.

"I love you, too, Kaylee," Inara smiled sweetly.

"Captain's got money for supplies, so let's get together what we're gonna need for a trip to New Melbourne."

"New Melbourne?" Inara asked.

"That's what he said," confirmed Zoe. She saw conflict spread across Inara's face, but no one else took notice of it. "Kaylee, what'd you need?" she turned her attention to the mechanic.

"Well, the fuel cells are pretty low from our trip here. And we lost that vent shield back when we left. Other n' that, she's fit to fly."

"Simon?"

"The infirmary could use some restocking. I scavenged what I could, but there wasn't much."

"Well, Captain'll want a list. Get it ready."

"Inara?"

"I… um, I don't think I need anything."

"Where's River?"

"Probably sleeping off last night's _xu jiu_," Simon uttered.

"Well, as long as she's over it by morning." A banging from within the cargo hold interrupted them.

"What's that?" Inara asked.

"Sounds like someone outside," Kaylee offered.

"I'll see to it. You all get about what you got to do." Zoe left them and hustled through the cargo bay towards the airlock. She peeked through the small, cloudy window and saw a young woman standing outside. She appeared to be a local. Zoe scanned all around her as much as the window's restricted view allowed, but she saw no one else. She heaved open the door.

"Afternoon, ma'am," the woman greeted. "I was wondering if I might speak to the captain?" Zoe put her hand on her hip and regarded the woman coolly.

"The captain's not in right now, miss. I'm the first mate. There somethin' I can do for you?" she asked, purposely not offering any introduction.

"I spoke with your mechanic last night. She said you might be heading out in a day or two." Zoe held her silence, waiting for the woman to go on. "I was wondering if you might be interested in taking on passengers."

"Yourself?"

"And my husband," the woman added. We're headed for the Georgia system, if we can make it."

"Well, we're liftin' off for New Melbourne tomorrow morning," Zoe answered, a touch relieved at the woman's destination. It made it easier to turn her away. "Georgia system's on the other side of the Verse, well outta our way. Might do better lookin' for a vessel that's headed that way instead."

"We're not particular how we get there, ma'am. Ain't too many ships that come out this far, and we can't afford those in the city. You take us as far as you can and we'll make our own way."

"Can't guarantee we'll have space," Zoe tried another tack. "Don't yet know what our cargo is. Plus there's extra rations and supplies to consider."

"We can pay for our board as well," the woman offered. Zoe pursed her lips. She was persistent, which meant she really wanted to get off this rock. Which probably meant trouble.

"I would have to speak with the captain on it. He'd have final say," she said, but mostly just to get the woman gone. She had no real intention of asking Mal. The woman's eyes lingered on her for a fraction of a second too long, further confirming her suspicions.

"Much appreciated, ma'am," the woman replied, her tone just a note more wary than before. "I'll stop by later, if that's not a problem." Zoe nodded neutrally. "Thank you." The woman turned and departed towards the gypsy encampment.

Zoe watched her for a while before closing the door. She hoped that the woman had gotten the message that she was not welcome and would not make a return visit. Passengers were one thing they could do well without right now. Still, standing inside the airlock, she wondered why she had not just turned the woman down outright. That would have been the simplest thing to do. It was not like they would even need the extra fare if this new contract was as sanguine as it sounded. Mal was certainly optimistic about it.

_Mal and optimistic?_ she thought sardonically._ There's two words that never shared a sentence before_. She sighed. So why had she left the woman an opening? Maybe she was too used to automatically deferring to Mal's leadership. She shook her head. One of these days she was going to have to break that habit. She put the woman out of her mind and headed back inside to oversee the preparations for tomorrow's departure.

* * *

As evening deepened on Paquin again, Mal and Zoe finished unloading their recent purchases from the mule. Against his better judgment, Mal was riding high. The combination of a job and the ability to buy supplies without going bankrupt did wonders for his mood. Engrossed in the work and his rare but welcome good cheer, he did not even hear the approach of someone from out of the dusk until there was a gentle rap on the side of the loading ramp. He glanced around, surprised.

"Evenin' sir. Might you be the captain?" the visitor, a young woman, inquired.

"That's me," Mal confirmed, leaving his crates and coming out to meet her.

"My name is Anna, sir, and I spoke with your first mate earlier today."

"You did?" Mal asked with a glance back at Zoe. She did not meet his eyes, but kept steadfastly unloading. "Well, pleased to make your acquaintance, Anna," Mal offered a jovial handshake, which the woman accepted with some hesitance. Mal found her quite a blossom. Especially alluring were her pale green eyes. She shifted them away from him for an instant, as if embarrassed.

"She said I should speak to you about buying passage for my husband and me."

"I see. Where you headed?"

"Georgia system. She said you were going to New Melbourne, but we don't mind taking the roundabout way."

"Well, New Melbourne is a layover and transfer point. You could probably find somethin' headin' for Georgia outta there. I don't suppose there's any reason why we can't take you along. Got plenty of room." Out of the corner of his eye Mal noticed Zoe pause in her work, eyeing them both. Anna glanced at her for a split second before replying.

"Thank you, sir. We appreciate it."

"Now, as for the price, I think we can take you for, say… five platinum each."

"That's not a problem, Captain."

"All right, Miss Anna. You've got yourself a ride to New Melbourne. You and your husband be at this ramp at seven in the mornin'. We lift off at seven-thirty, not a second after. If you're late, you'll have to find yourselves another boat."

"I understand."

"How much luggage you bringin'?"

"Not much. Maybe a duffel for each of us, and our instruments."

"Musicians, eh?" Anna nodded with a small smile. "All right. Seven tomorrow."

"Yes, Captain. Thank you very much." Anna turned and disappeared into the night. Mal's gaze lingered after her.

"Who was that?" Kaylee came down the stairs just in time to see the woman leaving the cargo hold.

"One of our new passengers," Zoe responded, her tone not at all pleased.

"Really? Who was it?" Kaylee asked, excited.

"Some pretty young thing and her husband. Sounds like their travelin' musicians."

"Oh, it's the gypsy woman I talked to last night!" Kaylee clapped her hands with delight.

"Sir, don't you remember how much trouble it is takin' on passengers while we got a job to do?" Zoe asked.

"We don't even pick up the cargo until we get to New Melbourne," Mal dismissed her concern. "In the meantime, we make a little extra cash just for takin' 'em where we're goin' anyways. They'll be off before we even get the stuff loaded."

"Oh, it's so exciting!" Kaylee bubbled. "Cap'n you should hear 'em. She's got a lovely voice, too. Maybe they'll play somethin' for us while they're here." Kaylee's mind was a-whirl with the promise of that possibility, Mal could tell. He smiled and tousled her hair.

"I'm sure you'll have a concert all planned out for us 'fore this is over. Now, get on with you. Make sure everything's ready for tomorrow, then off to bed. We got an early day." He closed up the loading ramp, sealing out the Paquin night. Then he turned to Zoe. "You didn't tell me she stopped by earlier." His tone was casual, but he knew she would get his drift. Zoe frowned, not meeting his gaze while she went back to work.

"Just don't think it's a good idea is all, sir," she answered, cool but voice edged with restraint.

"Why not?"

"Maybe you don't remember what happened the last time we took on passengers while we had cargo?" Mal thought back. The last time they took on passengers was when Simon, River, and Book had come aboard. That was nearly two years ago now.

"Yeah, but it turned out okay, sort of," he said. Zoe glowered at him. She dropped the last crate off the mule a bit rougher than necessary and hopped down.

"See you in the morning, sir," she clipped, bitterness seeping through. Mal, confused, watched her stomp up the stairs to the catwalk.

_What's her issue?_ he wondered. Sure, things had gone rough the last few months… well, maybe rough was an understatement. But did she really put all their troubles on the Tams? He was to blame as much as anyone for what happened. He had decided to keep Simon and River on board when he could have left them behind. If he had put them off, _Serenity_ never would have gotten involved in uncovering the secret of Miranda, and Wash and Book would still be alive. That consideration had crossed his mind many a time since, but it could not be changed no matter how guilty he felt about it. They had gotten involved, and they had all agreed it was the right thing to do. That was why he had given them a choice. He knew it would come with a price. He had learned that during the war. So had Zoe. But this time the price was nothing so abstract as an ideal or principle. Maybe she would have chosen differently if she had known what it would cost her. Maybe she needed someone to blame to cope with what happened. But it was not like River had chosen to be the Alliance's guinea pig for their sick little experiments, either. She had not chosen know the secret which terrorized her already fragile mind. Hell, she had not even chosen to become a fugitive or to come on board _Serenity_. Simon did that for her when he broke her out. In fact, through all of it, River was the only one who never had a say in what happened. He hoped Zoe realized that and would not take her anguish out on the girl. That was the last thing he needed, to break up a fight between the two most dangerous people on his ship. Shaking his head, he finished stowing the remaining supplies before heading upstairs himself.

**§8.** Rush, "Where's My Thing, Pt. 4: Gangster of Boats Trilogy," _Roll the Bones_, 1991

1 _suzui_- hangover

2 _ni hao_- hello

3 _xu jiu_- binge drinking


	6. Chapter 6

The orange flame of Heinlein simmered just below the edge of the eastern horizon, its rays not quite breaking over the planet yet. A light morning fog caressed the grass and muted the pre-dawn glow into an even, gray tone. Peering through the condensation collecting on the loading ramp window, Mal swept his gaze over the clearing beyond the ship. It was a few minutes before seven and he was waiting for his passengers to arrive. He had given a little more thought last night to Zoe's concerns, but he still could find no harm in it. He understood her trepidation, but given the dozens of passengers they had transported to earn some extra coin over the years, only once had they picked up the fugitive doctor with his half-crazy, psychic, secret Alliance assassin sister. What were the odds of anything remotely like that happening again? His cynical side immediately warned him not to ask that question, but he put it aside as a useless worry. In any case, he spotted two figures parting the mist at the far end of the field, so unless he felt like being a complete _hun dan_ and leaving them standing in _Serenity_'s jet wash, the point was moot. With their duffels and instrument cases slung over their backs, his charges trudged through the dewy grass up to the loading ramp. Anna stumbled slightly as she went to rest her duffel. Her husband was at her side instantly. He was a tall, gangly man, squinty-eyed, with tight ringlets of hair that was probably blond once, but now fading, hanging down to his shoulders. He helped his wife lower her pack off her shoulder. She smiled tenderly up at him, as he was a good dozen centimeters taller than her. He was also clearly almost a decade older. Not that any of that troubled Mal, but he continued to watch for a few more seconds as they conversed quietly. The man frowned at something, but Anna gave him a reassuring smile and clasped his hand.

Mal grasped the latch, and with the creak and groan of the hinges, heaved open the door.

"Well, good mornin' to you, travelers. Welcome aboard." He waved the two on. The man grabbed Anna's duffel before she could and followed her through the portal. He took a look around the spacious hold, laying their baggage on the floor. "You must be the husband," Mal wandered over to him for introductions.

"Yes. Wray. Wray Shen." He shook the captain's hand.

"Glad to have you and your wife aboard, Mr. Shen. Now, before we get you settled in, I'm gonna have to ask for your fares up front."

"Of course." Wray reached into his pocket and withdrew ten platinum, placing them in Mal's outstretched palm.

"Much obliged," Mal smiled broadly. "Excuse me a moment while I seal up the airlock here, then I'll show you to your room." Wray nodded. A look passed between him and his wife as Mal headed for the control panel. He slapped on the com. "River, passengers are aboard. How we lookin'?"

"Ready when you are."

"That's what I like to hear. Nothin' like an early departure." The airlock doors rumbled on their tracks and locked together with solid assurance. "Cargo bay sealed. Take us out," Mal spoke into the com. The hull shivered as _Serenity_'s jets sparked to life. Their steady whine gradually increased in pitch as they built up thrust for liftoff. The deck lurched a little and Wray and Anna grabbed each other for balance. "Nothin' to worry about folks," Mal assured them. "Just a little jolt 'fore the gravity kicks in. As you can see, we're runnin' ahead of schedule, so might get into New Melbourne a little earlier than planned. As it is though, it'll be at least eight days ride. So, let me show you where you'll be spending most of your time." Wray gathered their baggage and the two followed him out of the hold.

Inara was in the common area and rose politely as soon as she saw the new arrivals.

"Inara," Mal introduced. "This is Wray and Anna Shen. Inara is our resident…" Inara shot knives at Mal, "…Companion."

"So nice to meet you," Inara shook each of their hands with a warm smile. Mal noted their rather muted reaction to the introduction. He did not reckon it likely that gypsies regularly ran in the same circles as Companions, but maybe the two had some encounters before in their performances. Inara also was not putting on her most spectacular display of finery, considering she had very little with her on the ship, so that might account for the unimpressive response, too.

"Inara's room is next to yours, but don't worry too much about…"

"I'm on hiatus," Inara interrupted before he could make any further comment. She raked Mal with an instantaneous glare only he caught. Standing behind the passengers, he raised his hands in innocence, giving her a hurt look, but could not help grinning afterward.

"You can put your things in there," he ushered the Shens away from Inara and towards an open compartment in the passenger dorm. After they discarded their luggage in their room, he led the couple upstairs to the dining area. "Your fare pays for your meals as well, so feel free to fix yourself somethin' to eat whenever you like. Just be sure to clean up after yourselves. The crew has different schedules depending on duties, so we don't often have regular meals, but there'll probably be someone around if you're lookin' for company. That way is the engine room, and that way is the crews' quarters and bridge," he pointed out both. "Those areas are off limits to you, but you're free to roam wherever else you wish. Just mind yourselves and don't touch nothin'. Any questions?" Wray and Anna were silent. "Shiny. I got duties to attend to, so it's probably best you stay in the passenger area until we're out of atmo. Then you'll have the opportunity to meet the rest of the crew."

"Thank you, Captain," Wray nodded. He and Anna descended the stairs towards the commons and Mal headed for the bridge.

* * *

At the helm, River felt a niggling distraction at the back of her mind. It was a pressure, almost like a physical tug at the base of her skull. She rubbed her scalp, trying to brush it away, but it remained. Wondering, she craned her head around to look down the foredeck. The only thing she saw was the captain making his way towards the bridge. A pocket of turbulence suddenly rocked the ship. She whipped her eyes forward again, gripping the control stick tight.

"Hey, you payin' attention?" Zoe frowned at her from the co-pilot's position. She nodded.

"What was that?" Mal asked, ascending the bridge stairs.

"Turbulence. We're almost out of atmo," River explained. On cue, the clouds dissipated and the blackness of space opened up before them. A few seconds later she reached over and cut the jets.

"Got our course programmed?"

"Yes, Captain."

"All right. Lock her down and get ready for burn." River secured the control stick to the console and tapped out the command on her keyboard to engage the nav computer.

"Helm secure and course locked."

"Kaylee," Mal called through the com. "Fire her up."

"Aye, Cap'n." With a distant rumble, the main engine powered up. The Firefly's aft began to glow like its namesake, and then _Serenity_ rocketed into the black.

* * *

Chrysabel strode into her office with a steaming mug of coffee. The sun laid a trail of liquid fire across the ocean as it broke in the east. She smiled. It was a small pleasure, taking in the view for a few tranquil moments before getting to work, but one she never missed. That was one reason her office was open to such a panorama. It was easy to forget to enjoy the little things in life in her line of work. But today was more about appreciating the big things, like the one million credit reward that should be in her bank account before the end of the day. She sipped her coffee and turned from the dawn vista to her desk. She was eager to make sure things had played out according to her designs, and she found a message already waiting for her on the com. She punched it up. Sellers' face appeared on the screen, and he was frantic.

"Ma'am, I don't know what happened! They were there last night, and now they're gone! The raid went as planned, but we didn't find them. The others told the Feds that they left this morning on a ship that was berthed just outside of town, bound for New Melbourne. I'm sorry, ma'am, I…" Chrysabel turned off the video, unable to finish watching the rest of the message. Her coffee sat forgotten on her desk and a stone had settled in the pit of her stomach. All traces of the morning's previous tranquility were shattered. She stared at the blank screen in utter disbelief. Months of research and digging and bribes, the careful planning and reconnaissance, all to have it collapse at the last moment. How was it possible? How could they just slip away mere moments before… unless… no, there was no way. The man was not that stupid. But how many ships were heading to New Melbourne this very morning? She logged into the Cortex and searched the database of official departures from Paquin's regulated spaceports. Nothing was destined for New Melbourne at this hour. That left only the freelance departures. He never said where he was docked, though she would bet he was not about to pay the port fees if he could avoid it. She could track that information down easily enough, but she almost did not need to. Maybe it was just a sick coincidence, but she did not believe in coincidences. Trusting to luck was for fools like her customers, and he was no fool. That meant he had been playing her the whole time. Fury, hot and red, boiled inside her. She felt her cheeks flush. The rage alone behind her eyes would have flayed him where he stood had he been in her presence. She decided she would give him one chance that, however unlikely, he had some highly suitable explanation for his actions. Otherwise, Malcolm Reynolds was a dead man.

* * *

With _Serenity_ safely on course for New Melbourne, River took her leave from the bridge. She wandered towards the rear of the ship, hoping to find Kaylee and go meet the new passengers with her. Kaylee had gushed all night about them, relaying the little concert she and Simon attended during her escapades at _The Elephant's Tusk_, and it had intrigued her. She wanted to hear them play, and hoped maybe they would indulge her with a song or two she could dance to. She had not danced in so long, and, albeit a bit hazy, the night at the bar reminded her of the joy it used to instill in her. It was one fragment of her life, before the Academy shattered it, that she was able to recover in some measure and she clung to it.

The engine room was empty of everything but a low thrum as they cruised on momentum. She presumed Kaylee must have already sought out their guests. As she headed towards the stairs to the commons, she still could not shake that nagging tug in the back of her mind. She wondered if yesterday's hangover had left any lingering effects on her. She descended the first few steps but had to stop. The tug dramatically increased to an uncomfortable pressure. Dizzy, she wavered on the stairs, clutching the banister. A voice whispered through her thoughts. It was indistinct, more of an impression than actual words. But there was something familiar about the pattern. She tried to force the distracting pressure down and concentrate on the sounds.

_A… thigh… ass… No, math… I… as…. Ma… thi… as… Matthias! No…_ Without warning, an explosion of images swept through her mind. Needles and injections and exam rooms. And the pain, sometimes excruciating, sometimes just a distant, numbing throb, but always there. Her nightmares were alive and in her waking mind. Shaking like a leaf, she watched, unable to stop them. Behind it all she heard that voice, calm and sterile, giving the commands to dig into her brain like she was some lab animal_._ He was here! Unbridled rage consumed her. Her jaw clenched so hard she bit her cheek. Blood oozed forth, salty and metallic, but she barely tasted it. Without making a sound, she crept back up the stairs, not even aware of the colors slipping away.

* * *

In the commons, Inara, Simon, and Kaylee were getting to know the Shens. The conversation naturally turned to music, and Inara and Wray had delved into a debate over which era of humanity had created the greatest musical works.

"I'm not saying the symphony format is the best, but it's lasted the longest and remained largely unchanged."

"Chinese traditional arrangements go back centuries before the development of the symphony," Inara argued back. "Some of the musical tones they use do not even exist in symphonic music."

"True, but how many of those traditional arrangements are played the way they were seven, eight hundred years ago? Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, they've all survived intact for that long."

"Music is about emotion, not about what's written on the page. Even those composers understood that," Inara countered.

"Boy, you sure know a lot about history for bein' a gypsy," Kaylee commented. Both Simon and Inara colored with embarrassment. It was just an observation, and Kaylee was too honest to realize it might have been insulting. Fortunately Wray did not take it as such. He smiled at her, a little regret touching the corners of his eyes.

"I wasn't always a…" His words cut off and his head snapped up like a deer sensing a predator. At almost the same instant, Anna bolted upright, back rigid and tense. Simon and Kaylee looked between them, confused.

"What is it?" Inara asked, a half smile still on her lips.

"_Shen bu_…" Wray whispered, a horrified look passing from him to his wife. Then, moving so fast as to be a blur, something plunged down from the upper deck and flew at him. Only the fact that he was already moving prevented him from being impaled by the knife in River's hand. He threw himself to the floor as the blade sunk to the handle in the couch where he had been sitting. Kaylee and Simon stared, dumbstruck and rooted to their seats while River jerked the knife free. Inara and Anna fell back as her eyes passed without notice over them and locked onto Wray. Face aghast, the man scrambled to his feet and backed towards the cargo hold.

"River!" shouted Simon, regaining some sense. He reached to grab her but she effortlessly pushed him away. She followed Wray.

"Simon!" Kaylee's voice shook. "Wha… what's…?"

"River!" he shouted again, brushing off Kaylee's grasping hands, and went after his sister. Inara recovered enough of her composure to run to the intercom in the infirmary and shout for help.

"Mal! Get down here! River's trying to kill one of the passengers!" Inara's panicked voice burst from the intercom on the bridge. Mal and Zoe exchanged the briefest of startled glances before springing into action. Rushing down the bridge steps and through the foredeck, Mal hollered for his mercenary.

"What?" Jayne poked his head out of his bunk, but Mal did not stop to elaborate, charging past and down the forward stairs with Zoe on his heels. He leaped over the last few steps down to the catwalk and halted above the surreal scene unfolding before him.

"What the…" he pronounced under his breath. On the deck below, River was advancing on a terrified Wray Shen. A large knife from the galley was in her hand. Behind her, Simon was trying vainly to get her to back down.

"River, stop!" the doctor shouted, but his words had no effect. She continued moving inexorably forward. Wray kept backing away towards the airlock, but he was running out of room.

"What the ruttin' hell is goin' on?" Mal shouted to the room at large.

"I don't know. She just came after him," Simon called back. "River, please put the knife away," he begged his sister, edging carefully towards her. She paid him no heed and did not even seem to notice his approach. "River…" he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder as he got close, but before he could she twisted swiftly and elbowed him in the stomach, hard. He staggered and fell onto his back, gasping. Without showing the least bit of concern for her brother, River turned her attention back to Wray. She brandished the knife, its tip extended menacingly towards him.

"No!" Anna cried suddenly, flinging herself through the commons doorway and across the bay at the girl. Whatever she was about to do, though, River countered with astonishing speed. She caught the woman by the arm and twisted it behind her back. Then she yanked Anna close against herself and pressed the knife blade to her throat.

"Anna!" Wray cried, lurching towards his wife.

"Zoe…" Mal's voice brimmed with urgency. His first mate turned and ran back up the stairs while he pounded down the last flight to the cargo bay floor, heart racing. He planted himself a few paces away from River and forced some calm into his voice. "River, I don't know what's goin' on, but you put down that knife right now and let her go." She ignored him. Her face was stone, still set on Wray. "That's an order, _gorram_ it!" he shouted. Still no response. "River, so help me…" he drew his pistol from his holster, and that caught her attention. She cast a glance at him, and he froze immediately. Chills raced down his spine. River was not looking at him. She was gone. In her place was something else. But he recognized those eyes, harsh and dispassionate, almost inhuman for their lack of emotion. He had stared into them before. Except the last time they had been holding a gun on him in the Maidenhead. A quiet fear, always in the back of his mind since then, was now screaming at the forefront. _This is not happening again_, he thought furiously. But an instant later, he knew exactly what to do. _The safe word!_ River suddenly jerked Anna around to face him.

"She will be dead before you say it," she declared flatly, scoring a thin, red line across the woman's neck as she did. Mal's blood turned to ice, the phrase choked off in his throat.

The ominous sound of Zoe's mare's leg chambering a round echoed throughout the hold. Poised on the catwalk, she had the muzzle trained steadily on River, face grim and tightly controlled. Jayne came running behind her, taking a flanking position down on the landing, though his expression was far less calm. He did not aim his pistol at River, but he held it up and at the ready, flicking his eyes nervously between Mal and Zoe, and the girl and her hostage. River quickly assessed their positions and returned her soulless gaze to Mal. If having Zoe's gun pointed at her concerned her at all, she did not show it.

"Sir?" Zoe's eyes twitched to him, waiting for his command. Her voice wavered, the strain showing through even her mask of calm. Mal's mind spun frantically, trying to push through the confusion and fear for some sort of plan. Simon was still on his back, wheezing in agony. He looked like he could barely breathe, let alone speak. Even if one of them could say the safe word, it was a sure bet Anna would suffer some injury, if not be killed outright. Either way, the Doc was in poor shape to help. Kaylee and Inara stood in the commons doorway now, terrified and clinging to each other, helpless to do anything as well. Zoe had a clear shot, though. Maybe if she just wounded River, hit her in the shoulder so she would drop the knife and give him a chance to subdue her. That at least might… River's cold gaze bored into him and brought his scheme to a dead halt. He realized she could hear every thought in his head. She would know the instant before he barked any order to take her down. Something like triumph flashed behind her eyes and Mal felt like he might be sick. There was nothing he could do to stop her.

"Anna," Wray called to his wife, something desperate in his voice. That was the only indication Mal had that something was about to happen before the explosion knocked him off his feet. Then all hell broke loose.

There was no flash or detonation of any kind to cause it, but a thunderous concussion tore apart the cargo hold. With a roar, the shock wave slammed into River and Anna first, ripping them apart. It flung Anna across the floor towards her husband, himself tumbling backward against the airlock. River skipped over the steel floor plates in the opposite direction and slammed hard into the rear wall. She lay still in a tangled heap. Simon spun on his back, sliding towards the doorway where Kaylee and Inara had been blown down as well. The wave almost threw Zoe off the catwalk and tossed Jayne clear over the railing of the landing. Crates toppled and bounced around. Whirling dust stung the eyes. Up above, the mule screeched and swung wildly on its moorings as the shock rebounded off the hull. Then the roar subsided and bodies and debris came to rest. An eerie silence settled over the hold.

"Zoe?" Mal called for his first mate as he struggled upright.

"Sir."

"Jayne?"

"Unngh," Jayne's groan wafted up from somewhere among a pile of crates. Mal looked around from the seat of his pants, assessing the situation as best his stunned mind could. Simon, still doubled up, crawled over to River's inert form.

"She's out," he wheezed in between coughs.

"Simon!" Kaylee scrambled over to help him. Wray tended to Anna, who lay limp in his arms, also apparently unconscious. Mal looked at the disaster zone around him as he rose to his feet.

"Someone wanna tell me what in the name of all the hells in all the Verse just happened?"

* * *

The throbbing was what worked its way into River's awareness first. It was only slightly less intense than the headache from her hangover. Her mind moved like tar, taking a long time to convey the message to her eyes to open up. When they did, the glare was so bright she closed them again. She heard a groan, not realizing at first it came from her. She tried to sit, but could not move her arms enough to push herself up. She chanced opening her eyes again, but her pupils had trouble focusing. Squinting down at her sides, she discovered her arms were bound to the chair she was in by handcuffs. Dread panic flooded through her, jolting her alert. She jerked against the cuffs, struggling to see where she was.

"Simon?" she called in a tiny, terrified voice. "Simon!"

"Easy. You're in the infirmary," Mal appeared in the doorway. His presence caused some of her panic to fade, but fearful confusion replaced it.

"Why am I like this?" she asked him.

"Just a little matter of you tryin' to murder our passengers." She would have thought it a joke any other time, but Mal was not smiling. He was deadly serious.

_What have I done?_

"You wanna explain to me what happened?"

"I… I don't know…" she stuttered.

"You mean you don't know why you did it, or you don't know what happened?" She shook her head to both questions. "Let me jog your memory a bit." Mal stepped close to her, leaning down and locking his eyes with hers. And she saw. She saw herself standing in the cargo bay, holding a knife to a woman's throat. She saw herself turn to the captain, felt his blood run cold as she threatened him with the woman's life. Then, impossibly, she saw debris flying round as a sudden blast threw him to the ground. "You see all that? It help you remember yet?" Mal's words were not kind, but she was barely hearing them. Her eyes darted erratically around the room as she tried to process his memories. "Now, can you explain to me what happened?" he asked again. She stared at him, utterly lost and on the edge of breaking.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"The let's go with what you do know." She struggled for control, trying to recall the last thing she remembered before waking up in the infirmary. Her gaze fell inward.

"I… I was coming down the stairs. There was a pressure in my head, and I heard a voice, a name. And I remembered…" she closed her eyes and swallowed, unable to deal with those images again. She fought to compose herself. "I thought he was here," she looked at Mal, hoping it was enough.

"Who was here?"

"Dr. Matthias." Mal leaned away, folding his arms, not sure what to make of it. Simon appeared in the doorway behind him.

"Simon!" River cried. He limped to her side. "Are you alright?" concern flooded her. Simon turned to Mal.

"She don't remember it," Mal stated.

"What did I do?" she asked her brother. She searched his face, aghast as she saw his memories clearly. "Oh, Simon!" she broke into tears. Simon cradled her head against his shoulder. "What's happening to me?"

"Shh, _mei mei_," he soothed, but the words held little comfort. He was just as confused and lost as she.

"She's confined to her quarters," Mal ordered. "She don't go nowhere without supervision. I'm relievin' her of her duties, and she goes back on the meds. This ain't happenin' again on my ship." Simon did not protest. Neither did River. She knew that beneath the controlled anger of Mal's words was a fear, terrifyingly real and present. She saw an image of her standing before the captain with that cold, dead stare she had seen in her mirror. And she saw Mal shoot her, because he had no choice. She buried her face in Simon's shoulder and cried.

* * *

Mal stepped out of the infirmary after his brief interrogation of River, dark thoughts clouding his mind. He did not like what she had told him. He had hoped, along with Simon and everyone else, that she was better, that they would not have to worry about this anymore. But he was wrong. Now he had to try to put the pieces back together and figure out what caused it. Until he did, they were all in danger. But at the moment she was secure, and he had his crew and passengers to check on. In the common area, still in disarray, Inara tended to Jayne on the couch. She was gingerly wrapping his ribs with medical tape while he pressed a cold pack over the right side of his face.

"How you doin', Jayne?"

"I been thrown off some stairs and done a face-plant into a pile of _gorram_ crates. How do you think I'm doin'?" Mal shifted his attention to Inara. She did not say anything, but he read the controlled fear in her eyes. She was rattled, but she was holding together. He gave her a tiny, grateful smile, thanking her silently for her strength. Kaylee, on the other hand, was curled up in a chair, fingers fidgeting nervously and eyes full of the blank stare of shock.

"Kaylee? You okay?" Mal asked.

"Y… yeah. I'm fine, captain," her voice trembled in response.

"You ain't hurt?"

"N… no."

"Okay," he patted her shoulder in gentle reassurance and she gripped his hand briefly. Then he headed for the passenger dorm. Zoe stood guard outside the Shens' quarters, her stoic calm a small rock of stability in the suddenly treacherous sea this voyage had become. He nodded to her and knocked on the door. "It's the captain."

"Come in," Wray called. Mal stepped inside and slid the door closed behind him. Wray sat on the edge of the bed, Anna lying beside him. He was tense, nervous. Mal reckoned he would have been, too, had a psychotic girl just tried to kill his wife.

"How is she?" he nodded towards Anna.

"Doctor says she's fine. Just bruises, maybe a little soreness. I think it overtaxed her system, though. He gave her something to put her to sleep."

"Good. Glad she'll be okay." He let a short silence fill the space.

"Captain, what happened?"

"I'm not rightly sure."

"Who was that?" Mal had debated how to answer that inevitable question. He decided honesty was better than any story he could make up.

"That was the doctor's sister. She's a bit touched in the head. Doc looks after her as poor girl ain't got no other family. Normally she's sweet as can be. Never done nothin' like this before. Don't know what got into her." Well, it was mostly true. Wray nodded, accepting it in any case. "I'd like to apologize for all the trouble she's caused you. The girl's restrained. She'll be locked in her quarters for the duration of the trip, so not to worry. I'll gladly refund your fare and drop you off at the nearest world if you like."

"I appreciate that, Captain," the man mumbled. He had the far-off look of a person who had just seen something too incredible to believe. Mal noted he did not make mention of the mysterious explosion that had just wrecked the cargo hold, for which he was a touch relieved. He did not think he could make up any explanation that would not sound impossible or insane. The whole thing was disturbing as hell, and he would have been just as glad not to think about it, either.

"You need anything, you give the doctor or myself a holler." Wray nodded and Mal quietly exited the room, leaving the couple to themselves.

* * *

River trudged like an inmate under guard from the infirmary to her quarters. Mal and Zoe followed behind her, conspicuously armed, with Simon trailing them. The captain initially intended to keep her handcuffed while they moved her, but Simon's protests eventually caused him to relent. River was not so sure she disagreed with Mal's sense of precaution, though. After all, she had almost killed someone again, and had no memory of it. How could they trust her after that? How could she trust herself? She was glad that they did not encounter anyone else along the way. Mal and Zoe's wary alertness was bad enough, but she was not sure she could handle finding out just how afraid the rest of them were of her. They had every reason to be, but knowing it and feeling it were two different things for her. However, she would not have to feel much longer. Simon's injection was starting to take hold already. She felt it dulling her senses, dragging her down physically and mentally into an eventual daze. At this point, she welcomed it.

The small procession halted at her door. Without a word or glance at anyone, she swung onto the ladder and descended into her room. She took a seat on her bed, eyes downcast. Mal pulled the hatch closed. She twitched just a bit as the locking mechanism engaged. Then she heard the footsteps retreat, followed by silence.

_Alone_. That one word echoed across her mind. She did not move for a long time, just listening to those two syllables reverberating throughout the hollowness inside her until it was all she could hear. After a while it ceased to mean anything anymore. Swallowing and wiping away the unshed tears, she raised her head to look around at her newly painted prison cell, because, after all, that was what her room had become now. There was no escaping it, just like there seemed to be no escape from what the Academy had done to her. She had no idea what would happen next. Would Mal throw her off right away, or would she spend a few weeks or months as a virtual prisoner until they finally gave up on her? The pain of those thoughts threatened to overwhelm her again so she shifted her mind to something else. Maybe she could not physically leave her room, but her mind was free to roam wherever her imagination could take it. It was one of the few techniques she mastered to keep herself from going completely insane during her tortuous stay at the Academy. She closed her eyes, imagining the flowers on her wall were in a garden instead. She replaced the steel panels and cold floor with blue sky and smooth, green grass. A bird chirped somewhere. She felt the breeze kick up, and stray leaves danced around her. She followed one with mindful precision, tracing its path, trying to predict where the wind would carry it next.

_Please grow for me. Be my Eden. Overspread my prison. Set me free from this place. Shatter my chains. Don't leave me here. Please hear me… Please…_

* * *

Mal gathered his crew around the table in the dining area. The silence was leaden, every face harboring shadows and doubts. No one looked at each other.

"Seems like we been here before," he opened. Heads slowly raised and he took in all their gazes. They all said the same thing. They were afraid. "Simon, you think you can shed some light on this situation?" he turned to the doctor first. Simon sighed, slouching forward.

"Dr. Matthias."

"Who is that?" Inara asked. Simon's face darkened into something resembling either hatred or disgust.

"He was the man in charge of the experiments on River at the Academy. Something happened that made her think he was here, or she mistook one of the passengers for him."

"Mistook?" Zoe asked, hard-edged. Simon started to retort, but Mal held up a hand to silence them both.

"Why would she think that?" he questioned, keeping his tone even. Simon went on after a breath.

"She's having nightmares again, flashbacks of what they did to her. It's different from Miranda. That was her confusing what were her memories with those she picked up from others. She's adjusted to that now, mostly. This is her mind trying to deal with the torture they put her through. It's like a soldier re-living a battle." He gave Mal a full look. Mal remembered their conversation a few days ago, but he shook his head.

"Doc, that weren't no flashback like the other night. She was triggered. She was the weapon again."

"How is that possible?" asked Inara.

"It's not," Simon denied.

"You didn't get a good look at her face," Mal countered.

"But there's nothing on board _Serenity_ that can trigger her."

"You know that for a fact? You said yourself we don't know how many of them are out there. She said she heard a voice, somethin' that made her think this Matthias person was here. Anybody see her or talk to her beforehand?" No one answered.

"Well, all's I know is she's stone cold crazy," Jayne inserted his opinion. "This ain't the first time she's come at someone with a butcher's knife, remember? No matter how much better she gets, she could still snap on any one of us."

"I'm of a mind to agree with Jayne," Mal said. "Flashbacks and nightmares are one thing if she was normal," he looked at Simon. "But she ain't normal. Alliance conditioned her to kill. When she takes to that, ain't nothin' any of us can do to stop her."

"There's the safe word," Simon reminded him quietly.

"'Cept she knew I was gonna say it, which is why she nearly slit that poor woman's throat."

"Then we all should learn the safe word. If it happens again, she can't stop all of us at the same time," Inara suggested, though Mal was highly dubious on that last point.

"And if that don't work?" Zoe pressed.

"Why wouldn't it?" Inara asked.

"Doc?" Mal checked with Simon.

"It should work." Simon affirmed, but there was less than certainty in his voice.

"But if it don't…" Jayne appended.

"Then the only way to stop her is to put a bullet to her," Mal finished the unspoken thought around the table. Heavy silence descended again.

"Here's a crazy idea I got," Jayne broke in. "Why don't we just get her off the ship?"

"No. We can't do that," Kaylee spoke up for the first time.

"Why not?"

"'Cause she's family, Jayne," Kaylee protested.

"Ain't my sister," Jayne muttered.

"There's no place she can go," Simon turned to Mal.

"I know that, Doc, trust me. I'm hopin' with all my being that it won't come to that. For now, though, I think we go with Inara's idea. Each of us has gotta learn the safe word." There were nods of agreement. "Now, the other thing I want to know is who set off a bomb inside my cargo hold?"

"That wasn't a bomb," Zoe quietly considered after a second of silence. "There was no explosion. If there was, we'd all be frozen and floatin' to New Melbourne instead."

"So what was it, then?" Mal drove on. No one spoke up. "Anybody see anything? Simon?" he looked to the doctor again.

"All she had was the knife. I didn't see a grenade or anything else in her hands."

"Neither did I," Zoe confirmed.

"Me neither, but somethin' blew up in there. I got the injuries to prove it," Jayne added.

"What about the passengers?" Simon suggested.

"Wasn't really watchin' them," Zoe glanced at Mal, who rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Wray did say somethin' to his wife just before it happened. Sounded almost like he was warnin' her, but I didn't see him throw anything."

"Could've been remote operated," mused Zoe. "Blast like that, the device would be pretty small. Easy to hide." She and Mal shared a knowing look.

"Wait, are you sayin' they brought a bomb with 'em?" Kaylee asked of their passengers. "What for?"

"I ain't sayin' anything yet," Mal answered her, putting his hands on the table and getting up. "But might be we want to take a closer look at the Shen's luggage when we get the chance," he gathered Zoe and Jayne with a glance. "I want one of you two keepin' an eye on them 'till they leave. If they ask, tell 'em it's just precaution. Be on the lookout for anything suspicious."

"Aye, sir," Zoe nodded.

"Meantime, Doc, you're to teach everyone the safe word before they go to bed tonight. All of you, write it down, keep it in your pocket, memorize it. I don't care what you do, but have it ready in case you need it. Kaylee, you get started on cleanin' up the mess in the hold. We'll be down shortly to help out."

"I'll help, too," Inara offered. Mal gave her a look, a bit surprised, but just nodded. The two women rose and headed towards the forward stairs.

"Jayne, you got first watch on the Shens." The big man nodded and checked his pistol.

"I'd like to go talk to River some more," Simon said as he stood.

"Sorry, Doc," Mal shot that down. "No one's gonna be by themselves with her."

"Mal, I'm her brother. I highly doubt she's going to hurt me."

"Right, 'cause that elbow to your gut was just an accident." Simon made to protest, but then quickly deflated. "Look, Doc, I get that she's your sister and you wanna take care of her and all. But after what just happened, I ain't trustin' anyone around her alone."

"But she might be able give us some clues as to what caused this. And she can't…" Simon looked down, "she can't stay there like that."

"It don't please me any more'n you to lock her up like that, but I ain't takin' chances. Give us some time to sort things out and then we'll have a chat with her. But you are not to go down there by yourself, _dong ma_?"

"Yes, captain," Simon answered, his head still down and bitterness tingeing his voice. Mal watched him turn and shuffle painfully towards the rear stairs. He sighed, heading out of the dining area as well and making towards the bridge. Zoe followed him. He tromped wearily up the steps from the foredeck and dropped into the helm which creaked with protest. Zoe settled more lightly her into usual spot at the copilot's station.

"Things never are simple," he muttered.

"No they aren't," Zoe agreed. As if responding to that comment, a tiny buzzer sounded on the console. "Got an incoming wave," Zoe said as she leaned forward and checked the communications log. She frowned. "Looks like we missed a couple earlier, all from the same person."

"Who is it?" Mal asked.

"Doesn't say. Code's private, encrypted."

"Hmmm…" Mal rubbed his chin. "Go ahead and take it." He turned his chair to face the camera while Zoe accepted the call. Chrysabel's visage appeared on the screen.

"Well, hello Miss Chrysabel. I…"

"Malcolm Reynolds, you _wu_ _wu yu wa_ son-of-a-bitch! You stole my reward money!"

"Uh…" Mal droned, completely confused and taken aback by the verbal assault.

"You will turn your ship around and get your ass back here or I will terminate your contract, your ship, and your life."

"Whoa, now. That's pretty harsh. Especially for a man who hasn't the foggiest idea what the hell you're ravin' about!" Mal let some of his pent up emotions loose. He knew it was not smart, but he was feeling a little stressed about the day so far.

"Don't lie to me, Captain. I spent months workin' on this, gettin' it all planned out. I call up the Feds yesterday, ready to collect, and this morning I find you've up and double-crossed me."

"Woman, you are completely off your rocker!"

"You got something that's mine," her manner took on a more deadly calm. "You will turn around and bring it back to me, or I will have the Alliance pick you off like a prairie hawk pouncin' on a shrew." Realization dawned on Mal. He cut the microphone off, turning to Zoe.

"Simon and River."

"She tipped the Feds," Zoe said, following his thought.

"_Gorram_ it, how did she find out? I knew it! I knew I shouldn't have trusted her. She knew too much." He turned the mic back on. "Look, I don't care who you are or how much o' your precious time and money you put into trackin' 'em down. They're part of my crew, and they ain't goin' nowhere. You can't live with that, then we may just have to part ways."

"How could they be part of your crew? You just picked them up this morning."

"What?"

"Your _gorram_ passengers! I want them back!"

"Wait, you're after the… the passengers?" Chrysabel studied him for a moment.

"You really are clueless. This is unbelievable," she shook her head.

"Uh, I'm startin' to be convinced of that myself." Chrysabel heaved an audible sigh.

"It might just be your dumb luck, Captain, that'll save you. I'm uploading a file to you now. Take a look at it." She tapped something on her com station. Zoe brought up the transferred file on another screen. She and Mal looked it over. It was a standard Alliance fugitive bulletin, something they were familiar enough with. The first thing Mal noticed was the reward amount. One million credits. His eyes widened. The second thing he noticed was the photograph. It was the portrait of a smiling man. He had a long face with neat, close cropped hair and thick, rimless glasses. Behind the lenses lay a pair of soft but prescient gray-blue eyes. The picture was vaguely familiar to Mal, but only after his mind discarded the glasses, replaced the trim haircut with long, wavy locks, and added some facial hair did he recognize the man for who he was. It was Wray Shen. The last thing he noticed sent his mind reeling. Beneath the portrait was the fugitive's name. Dr. Matthias Harder. He stared at it in disbelief.

"Well, Captain? Do you get it now? Can I have my fugitive back?"

"Uh… I'll, uh… have to call you back."

"Wha…" Mal terminated the wave.

"Matthias," Zoe said.

"River." He spun out of the seat and hustled off the bridge with Zoe keeping stride. He drew his pistol and checked the chamber.

"Sir, I seem to remember mentioning somethin' about takin' on passengers and trouble," Zoe reminded him as they walked briskly through the foredeck.

"Zoe, I'm sure one day we'll be lookin' back on all this, and we'll laugh, and you'll tell me 'I told you so.' But right now I'd really appreciate it if you'd shut the hell up."

"Yes, sir," she cocked her mare's leg, but the faintest edge of a smirk clung to her mouth.

They descended the stairs to the common area, weapons drawn. Passing the infirmary window, Simon gave them a surprised stare and started to come out.

"Stay there," Mal ordered him and turned towards the dorms. Jayne was leaning against the door opposite the Shen's room, but he came to attention the moment he saw Mal and Zoe with their guns at the ready.

"Trouble?" he hissed, unholstering his pistol.

"More'n enough of it," Mal grumbled. He paused in front of the Shen's door and leaned an ear close. He heard no voices, just a faint shuffle of someone moving around.

"Either o' you gonna tell me what's goin' on?" Jayne whispered. Mal did not offer an explanation, but motioned for the man to cover one side of the doorway. Zoe took the other side. Then Mal slammed open the sliding door and thrust the muzzle of his autorevolver right into Wray's stunned face.

"You lied to me."

1 _hun dan_- bastard

2 _Shen bu_- "Oh, god"

3 _wu wu yu wa_- dirty; fithy; impure


	7. Chapter 7

"You're a _gorram_ fugitive," Mal accused Wray. The astonished man stared back, frozen by Mal's intrusion. He knelt next to his wife, a vial and a full syringe in his hands. Mal took in those details for a fraction of a second, then grabbed Wray by the collar and flung him bodily out the door. The man stumbled into Zoe who thrust him towards Jayne. Jayne shoved him to the ground. Wray crawled backwards away from his assailants on his hands as Mal menaced him again.

"Mal, what are you doing?" Simon was out of the infirmary and halfway across the commons now.

"River was right," Mal answered him. "His real name is Dr. Matthias Harder. He's wanted by the Alliance. Saw the bulletin myself." Simon froze, staring at the man in stunned silence.

"Captain, you're making a mistake," Wray urged.

"Then you best enlighten me real quick, 'cause from where I'm standin' I'm not sure whether I should turn you over to the people who are after you, or just put a bullet in your _wu yong_ ass and toss you out the airlock. You got some _gaowan_ to sneak onto my ship, terrify that poor girl into attackin' you, and then try to kill her. What are you tryin' to do? Cover your tracks by shufflin' her off 'cause she escaped your little torture house Academy? You are one sick son-of-a-bitch. The only mistake I made was lettin' you on my boat," Mal spat. The steel in his voice was matched by the click of the hammer as he pressed his gun to the man's forehead. Wray stared past the barrel with desperate eyes. "Doc," Mal called to Simon, his sights never wavering from Wray. "Check on Mrs. Shen. He was about to stick her with somethin'," he jerked his head towards the room. Simon finally shook himself out of his daze.

"Wait, Mal. He's right."

"Right about what?"

"He's not Dr. Matthias. Or, at least, not the same Dr. Matthias from the Academy."

"How do you know?"

"Because I met him when I broke River out. That's not him." Mal blinked at Simon for a perplexed few seconds, then raised his pistol away from Wray's head, easing the hammer down. Wray's shoulders slouched in relief. He closed his eyes and swallowed loudly. Mal frowned down at him before returning to Simon.

"So who the hell is he, then?" he asked.

"I don't know," Simon shook his head.

"Who are you?" Mal turned the question back to Wray.

"I lied to you, Captain, about my identity, I admit. But I swear I did not do anything to harm the girl. If I had known she was on this ship, we would never have come on board."

"So you do know her," Mal narrowed his eyes.

"No… no, I don't," Wray rushed to deny. "I've never met her before."

"But you know somethin'," Mal levied, and the guilty twitch of Wray's eyes told him he was on the right track. "So what is it, then? A man's gotta do somethin' pretty drastic to get a million credit bounty on his head."

"Did you say a million credits?" Jayne interjected, eyes alight with fresh interest.

"Wray?" A small voice issued from behind them. Mal turned to find Anna leaning on the door frame of her room, looking frail and scared.

"Anna," Wray heaved himself up and ran to her, wrapping her in an embrace.

"Mal, I thought you were going to come help us clean up?" Inara interrupted the gathering as she and Kaylee came in from the cargo bay. She noticed the three drawn weapons and stiffened with sudden apprehension. "What's going on here?"

"That's what we're tryin' to suss out," was Mal's response. "I don't know who you and your wife really are," he directed his statement at the Shens, "but I better get some questions answered real quick or I'm gonna put you both off my boat the first chance I get. Whether or not we're in atmo when that happens is gonna depend on your answers."

"Mal!" Inara protested, astonished.

"We'll gladly depart in peace at whichever port you choose, Captain," Wray hurriedly assured, "and you can forget you ever saw us. Just don't turn us over to the Alliance."

"Why not? A million credits for one little fugitive don't seem like such a bad proposition to me," Jayne chimed in, inching a little closer to the Shens. Wray took half a step back and placed himself protectively between the big man and his wife. With the thought of that much cash in his coffer, Mal could not bring himself to completely disagree with Jayne, even though his own standing with the Alliance made it a remote possibility at best. But Wray did not know that, and no sense in giving up the advantage. The man's eyes shifted to him, and Mal saw his expression harden into a set of defiance.

"You're not going to turn us in," Wray stated.

"That a fact?" Mal raised his eyebrows in challenge.

"You can't. Not without risking getting captured yourselves." The charge struck Mal into silence.

_How the ruttin' hell did he figure that out?_ Did Wray, or Matthias, or whoever he really was know something about them? A man with that large a price on his head had most definitely ruffled some feathers in the Alliance, and maybe taken a few secrets with him. Or maybe he was just taking a shot in the dark. In either case, Mal started to consider it might be best to do away with both of them now. Although neither seemed prone to violence, that did not mean they were not dangerous. After all, taking on Simon and River had seemed harmless enough at first. And he surely was not running short on fugitives aboard his boat. He was not usually one to condone drastic action, and Chrysabel would certainly be sore at the prospect, but the immediate safety of his crew was a more pressing concern at the moment. It might save him a lot of trouble later.

Wray was watching his face with those sharp gray-blue eyes and seemed to suddenly realize he had grasped the wrong end of the sword.

"Look, Captain, I don't really care why you're running from the Alliance, nor do I want to know," he backpeddled from his earlier boldness. "But my point is we're both on the run from the same people. It's safest for all of us if we don't ask questions and just go our separate ways." Mal did not answer, regarding him with a hard-edged stare. "Please," Wray's desperation returned. "I only want to keep me and my wife safe. I'm sure you can appreciate that."

"I surely do," Mal flashed grin devoid of any real pleasantry. "Jayne, Zoe," he snapped. Wray's eyes widened in fear as the two crew members lunged from either side. He pushed Anna back towards the room, but there was nowhere to go beyond that. Jayne took one large stride forward and yanked him away from the door. He tried to resist, but the mercenary twisted his arm sharply, sending him to his knees with a cry of pain.

"No!" Anna cried, but Zoe wrapped her up before she could move to help. As it was she nearly collapsed, her mouth twisting in pain, leaving Zoe to practically hold her up so she did not drag both of them down.

"Cap'n!" Kaylee cried in surprise, but Mal paid her no heed.

"You see, the problem with secrets is they got a way of comin' back to haunt you," he stalked close to Wray, his expression dark and dangerous. "You think I'm just gonna let you stroll off my boat knowin' the names and faces of me and every one of my crew, so that when the Alliance finally does pick you up you got some leverage to bargain with? That's not how it works. You're gonna repay the favor and share, whether you want to or not. Hold 'em here," he ordered. "Doc, c'mon." He spun and marched towards the stairs, passing Simon who was still staring at their former passengers, now prisoners. But two seconds later the doctor's footfalls sounded on the stairs behind him.

"Mal, what are you doing?" Simon called.

"I'm gonna have River take a peek into their heads. Maybe she can shed some light on this."

"I don't think she's going to be up to facing…"

"I don't care!" Mal shot back, whirling at the top of the stairs. "No one comes aboard my boat and threatens my crew like that," he growled. He stomped on through the dining area, Simon still a few steps behind.

* * *

The noise of the disengaging lock startled River harshly from her meditation. It shattered her sheltering garden like a stained glass window. The abrupt return to reality and the lingering side-effects of the meds left her shaking. She took a few steadying breaths as the hatch to her cabin swung open.

"River," the captain called down. His voice was calm, but the razor's edge of tension beneath it threatened to slice right through at any moment. Still a touch disoriented, she rose from her bed and stared up the ladder at him. Mal's jaw was taut, the muscles in it twitching a little as they always did when he was stressed. Though the drugs moderated the worst of it, his apprehension still sung across her nerves like a bow on a string. "Seems like I might be owin' you an apology," he said. His gaze slipped off her face for an uncomfortable instant, as clear an admission of a mistake as he would ever give. "It looks as if our passengers ain't all they appear to be. I need you to come down and take a look for me," he went on. She knew exactly what he meant by that, and she turned away. After all that had happened today, she was not sure she could handle that.

"River, it's okay," Simon called down, soothing. "It's not Dr. Matthias from the Academy. I would've recognized him."

_Of course_, River recalled. Simon had been introduced to the sadistic scientist just before he freed her. But that was no consolation. It only meant that she had nearly killed the wrong man and his wife. What if whatever that had spurred her lethal conditioning to take control happened again? Never had it asserted itself without a clear trigger before. It should have been impossible. Even when she had used something of it to fight the Reavers, that was only muscle memory- physical responses honed and practiced to reflex. She had been in control then, perhaps driven into a rage by all the emotions rolling through her on that day, but still herself. But if something about the passengers could activate that part of her, would it be safe to be in their presence again? Cold fear filled her stomach and a shiver ran through her. She could not risk it. "I can't," she murmured up the ladder, head still down.

"I wasn't askin' you," Mal replied, his tone hardening. She flinched a little at it. "I gotta know for sure. These people might be a danger to us."

"So am I," she countered. She met his eyes again, not bothering to mask the fear in hers. He swallowed, knowing what she said was true.

"Look," he eased up a bit. "If there was another way I'd gladly choose it, but there ain't. I ain't exactly comfortable with it myself. But your brother'll be there. I'll be there. We'll all be there. None of us is gonna let anything happen to you."

"You can't promise that."

"Maybe not. But you're on my crew." The note of honesty in his voice drew her eyes back to his and she searched his face for a long moment. His worry and doubts were written plain on his face, and he was not trying to hide them. But she saw something beyond that, stronger than his fear, which she was surprised to find at all. He needed her. His crew, his family's lives might be at risk. And despite the danger she posed, he was willing to put his faith in her. She lowered her head again. She did not deserve that kind of trust. It did not make sense, not after what had happened today. Not after all she had put them all through since she came on board. But there it was, and she could not turn her back on it. No matter how bad it got, they had never given up on her. _Yet…_ her cynical side added. Still, she owed it to Mal and to all of them for showing her compassion and acceptance she had no right to. "I'll do it," she finally agreed almost inaudibly. She felt the subtle shift in Mal's tension after she spoke. He was relieved she had consented, but that did not alter the overall peril of the situation he was putting her in. She bit her lip, frightened by the consequences she could not begin to imagine if something went wrong, but she placed her hand on the ladder and started to climb up. Simon's concerned expression was waiting for her at the top. She knew exactly what he was going to say and she turned away from him to close her bunk hatch so she did not have to face him when he did.

"Are you sure you can do this?" he asked. She closed her eyes, head down and one hand gripping the final rung as if for support. Simon did not understand. He could sympathize, he could imagine, but he would never understand. Of course she was not sure. How could she ever be? Fear still roiled in her gut, but it was not a matter of whether or not she could. She did not have much choice. She did not answer him, but just nodded without turning around.

"Let's go," Mal ordered.

River stepped between them, still not looking at either one, and made for the dining area. She felt Simon fall in a half a pace behind her with Mal following behind him. Black doubts assailed her already flimsy sense of determination while they marched through the dining area. What if she did change? Would she feel it coming on, be able to warn them? Would they have time to say the safe word? There were just too many unknowns, too many variables. Her fears continued to multiply as they passed through the rear passage. When they reached the top of the stairs to the commons her resolve finally faltered altogether and she stopped.

"What is it?" asked Mal, his voice tight. She sensed him reaching for his gun and knew it was as much to protect himself from her as from any potential threat she might have sensed below.

"River?" Simon rested a hand on her shoulder and she jumped at his touch, startling all of them. The meds must have been wearing off because she felt his protective concern engulf her. Other times so intrusive, at this moment it was suddenly like a shield, enveloping her in a cocoon of safety. Simon loved her, and would stand by her no matter what. After all, he had given up everything to come after her once before. He would not hesitate to do it a second time. Through all the uncertainty about what lay ahead since arriving on _Serenity_, Simon was the one constant she could always count on. She felt him unconsciously lending her his strength. It bolstered her flagging confidence. She could do it for him, if nothing else. She searched out his hand and clasped her fingers over his, gripping so tightly that she hurt him a little. Then she closed her eyes, steeling herself for the unpredictable, and slowly started down the stairs. She moved on memory and instinct. The cold corrugations of the metal bit into her bare feet and she latched onto the sensations, something to keep her anchored in reality. She took the steps one at a time, taking a second or two to plant each foot and become fully aware of the patterns of the grating pressing into her skin. Through them she felt the faint vibrations of the engine's thrum, so familiar now, the heart of the ship that had become her home and her sanctuary. She realized that, in her own way, the ship was lending her strength as well. What would have become of her without _Serenity_? She did not care to entertain the notion and instead offered silent thanks, long overdue, to the vessel. Then she continued down.

As the stairwell opened up into the commons, the mental pressure of the minds of those gathered there started to press against her. She brought her attention to bear on the muddle of sensations, fighting to resolve them into distinct impressions. There was Kaylee, all blossoms and sunshine, though clouds of fear were at the moment darkening her usually cheery thoughts. Inara was there, too, crystalline, with the strength and beauty of a diamond, but just as brittle. Zoe's piercing attention found her next. Dark currents churned beneath the apparently calm swells of her thoughts. Jayne's mind felt like a lion, prowling and pacing, licking its lips in anticipation of something. And from behind her still flowed Simon's sheltering love and support, and Mal's wary trust. Doing her best to thrust those accustomed consciousnesses out of the way, she opened her eyes on the two passengers. They were both on their knees on the floor. Jayne loomed over the man while Zoe stood guard above the woman. A miasma of unease like the twinge of an impending headache or the aches of a rising fever hovered over both of them. She swallowed, a wave of her own fear threatening to overwhelm her, but she plowed through it and turned her mind on the man first. She reached for his thoughts and felt… nothing. Well, there was not absolutely nothing. His presence was there, evidenced by the pressure at the back of her skull returning as before, but she could not make out any coherent impression of his thoughts. Frowning in confusion, she screwed up her face and concentrated more intensely, to no avail.

"Well? Who are they?" Mal's impatience interrupted her.

"I… I can't tell," she muttered, bewildered.

"Huh?"

"There's nothing. His thoughts aren't there."

"What the hell does that mean?" Mal demanded. River shook her head, ignoring the captain's incredulous question, and shifted to the woman. Immediately a flood of crippling pain hit her. She gasped and grabbed for the railing, nearly falling.

"River," Simon's grip tightened on her and she had to lean on him to stay upright. "What's wrong?" "She's… she's hurting…" River relayed through clenched teeth, and even that much took supreme effort. On a primitive level, every human brain reacted almost identically to physical pain. Thus it was one of the most powerful emotions, and relatively easy to sense. However, never had she actually been able to experience another's pain like this before. It always came as more of an intellectual awareness, recognized by its effect on the higher thought processes more than physically felt. She might be able to pinpoint the location of the pain, maybe even feel the slightest phantom sensation of it, but never anything so visceral as what she felt right now. Her joints burned and ached, and her head throbbed. It was agony as real as it could have been without it being hers. Aside from that, there was not much she could sense from the woman, but for an instant something else did touch her. Like an electric shock, a surge of energy flashed through her before being swallowed into the agony again. The woman whimpered and River could not prevent herself from crying out in sympathy.

"Stop! Please!" the man suddenly burst out. River gladly tore here mental sense away from the woman's suffering to focus on him again, and she immediately felt an outpouring of concern directed at the woman. It was a familiar sensation, so much like her brother's feelings for Kaylee, but containing something even deeper that she could not grasp with words. "She's in agony. Please, Captain," the man begged Mal.

"Not 'till you explain who you are." The man shot his eyes to River, desperate.

_My name is Matthias Harder. I am a doctor. My wife has Bowdens and she needs her treatment. Please let me help her!_ The thought struck River with such acuity that she just stared at him. She had never read anyone's mind so clearly before. Usually she just got a muddy impression of words and visuals, mixed in with a healthy shot of emotion. But his thought had come through as distinctly as if he had spoken it aloud, even including his tone of voice. She went stock still, eyes saucer-wide.

"Well?" Mal was still waiting on Matthias to answer. Through her astonishment, River managed to make her mouth work and spoke for him.

"His name is Matthias Harder," she repeated what she had heard in her mind, eyes still locked on the man. "He's a doctor. His wife has Bowdens and needs her shot." She felt Mal frowning behind her back at her response.

"You positive?" he asked. River turned to him, eyes large and serious.

"Yes."

"I thought you just said you couldn't read him?"

"I can now," she uttered, letting her mental sense search over Matthias again. Whatever else he might be lying about or hiding, his urgent concern for his wife was unmistakably honest.

"What about why they're runnin' from the Alliance?" River dutifully focused her senses once more, though it was getting harder to ignore the woman's distress. With effort, she shifted that to a rear corner of her mind and sought out Matthias' thoughts. He met her gaze, the fear in his mind as clear as that on his face, but his thoughts were stubbornly indistinguishable once again. Her sporadic ability to read him was both confusing and frustrating.

_Who are you?_ She knew it was futile, but she hurled the mental question at him anyway, as if it might help break through whatever barrier was preventing her from seeing into his mind. It was so minute that perhaps no one else even noticed, but she saw him flinch just a little in response to it. It took approximately a tenth of a second for her intellect to wonder about his reaction before she deduced the answer, and the shock of realization slammed home. "He's a reader," she blurted out. Disbelief rippled around the room, the reactions of the crew mirroring her own. No one moved or spoke.

"That true?" Mal finally broke the silence with his question to Matthias. Most of the captain's anger had now drained away into confusion and uncertainty.

"Yes, it's true," Matthias admitted, his head falling towards the floor and muffling the words against his chest.

"_Gorram_ it," Jayne hissed with a mistrustful glare. He slid a step further back from Matthias, a hand ready on the grip of his pistol, though it remained in its holster for the time being. Zoe treated the man to an even more hostile glare than Jayne, and her mare's leg did rise a little towards him. The escalating tension might have concerned River, but she was devoting most of her mental strength now to blocking out her awareness of Matthias' wife. The woman was radiating pain like an agonized star. River tried to keep it at bay, but it was impossible to withstand for long.

"Simon, please," she turned to her brother, almost as desperate as Matthias now. "Help her." Simon turned his eyes up to the captain. Mal, face still drawn in lines of confusion, finally nodded. Simon slipped around her and headed for the infirmary.

"Our room," Matthias stopped him. "The syringe. It's got Pescaline in it." Simon abruptly reversed direction and headed for the passenger quarters.

"You sure 'bout this, albatross?" Mal asked her quietly as he descended the stairs to stand alongside her. Mal still doubted, still worried, but his trust was there as well. He would believe her. She nodded, but that was the most she could muster. She sank to the stairs and averted her eyes from the two prisoners, repeating her mantra in a strained whisper in an attempt to escape from the pain into her sanctuary garden. Mal issued a sigh. "Let 'em go," he ordered. At that moment the woman collapsed at Zoe's feet with a cry.

"Anna!" Matthias was at her side before anybody could stop him, cradling her in his arms. Simon returned then, carrying the syringe.

"Let's get her to the infirmary," he instructed, kneeling down to help, but Matthias' lanky form just lifted his wife's limp weight without much struggle. Simon led them through the door of the infirmary and began attending to his patient immediately. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew closed in around Mal at the center of the commons. River remained seated on the stairs, trying to recover as the woman's pain slowly receded from her senses, but she listened in to the conversation.

"What the hell's goin' on here, Mal?" Jayne asked.

"I'm still workin' on that one."

"If he really is a reader, could be that's why the Alliance is after him," suggested Zoe. Her eyes slipped to River, and the others' followed suit.

"He is," River confirmed.

"That would explain a lot," Mal agreed. "But not everything. There's still too much here we don't know."

"Well I know one thing that'd be real simple. Just turn 'em in. You gonna pass up an easy million credits like that, Mal?"

"No. We can't," Kaylee snapped with some vehemence. She glared at Jayne. "What if they do to him like they done to River?"

"Like I give a baboon's ass crack about them," Jayne shot back.

"Not likely to happen in any case, Jayne," Mal went on. "We can't just waltz on up to the Alliance and hand 'em over without gettin' pinched ourselves. Or have you forgot about that part?" Mal had a hard look for his mercenary, who folded his arms with a scowl and looked obstinately away.

"So what are we going to do, then?" Inara wondered aloud.

"No more flyin' blind. We need the full story," Mal stated. He turned away from the group and headed into the infirmary. River watched through the window as he began speaking to her brother and Matthias. Wheels were turning. She could feel it. Though she did not know what it meant, she could tell something was happening. They had discovered another reader, one also wanted by the Alliance. One whom she had almost killed. That left a lot of questions in her mind. But as the captain said, they had yet to know the full story. The truth was painful, though. Uncovering it about Miranda had nearly destroyed them. She could only hope this time around it would not be so terrifying. But somehow she doubted it.

* * *

No one had moved very much by the time Mal emerged from the infirmary, escorting Matthias ahead of him. Jayne was leaning against a strut closest to the passenger dorms now, arms folded and not quite scowling. Zoe had taken up a post on the back of a chair with a clear view of the infirmary and its occupants. Inara and Kaylee sat next to each other on the couch, although Kaylee made haste to join Simon by the infirmary door when he emerged behind the other two. River kept herself apart from everyone, still sitting on the stairs despite the cold and uncomfortable metal digging into her bottom. Maybe it was just psychological, but distance seemed to help diminish her ability, and it had been overtaxed enough today as it was.

Mal halted Matthias in the center of the room. Jayne and Zoe shifted from their positions, moving to close the circle about him. Whether intentional or not, the man was surrounded now, and River saw in Matthias' face that he knew that.

"All right," Mal started in on him, crossing his arms. "How's about you tell us the whole truth this time."

"Yes," Matthias nodded. "I'm sorry about before, but I wasn't sure I could trust you."

"And now you can?"

"Yes, I think so. It's not like I have much choice anymore," he shrugged. "I don't know who your sister is, Dr. Tam," he turned to Simon, "but I think I know something of what she is." Simon's mouth gaped a little.

"How?" River's brother demanded. Matthias sighed a little.

"I was once the head of a special government school on Osiris called the Academy of Gifted and Advanced Studies." Surprise was evident on everyone's face as he spoke, but all River was aware of was a cold shower of fear instantly soaking her mind and body. She stared in horror, involuntary tremors shaking her limbs. Her instincts screamed at her to run up the stairs and get away from this man, and she only just barely managed to suppress the urge. As it was, she jerked up from her seat on the stairs, tense and fearful. Mal glanced at her and almost unconsciously moved his hand within reach of his holster, as did Zoe and Jayne. She was not sure if the precaution was intended to be against her or Matthias.

"I'm not likin' this story already," the captain warned.

"That was before it became what it is today. Before I left and became a fugitive," Matthias explained swiftly, his color blanching a little.

"What about your wife? She from there, too?" Zoe asked.

"No," Matthias shook his head. "But she's a reader as well, although she is a bit… different." He gave a glance towards the infirmary where Anna was sleeping, but it was unreadable, even to River.

"Great," Jayne snarked. "So now we got three _feng_ mind-readers 'board this ship. Cap'n, you got some kinda special power for attractin' loonies?"

"Jayne!" Kaylee chided him. "They ain't crazy."

"Well, so what? I mean how do we know he ain't just makin' this _gou shi_ up?"

"River says he's a reader, and given that the Alliance is out for him, I'm inclined to believe what he's said so far," Mal replied.

"Well, who says he can't be lyin' to her, too?"

"Would you like me to prove it to you, Mr. Cobb?" Matthias turned and glared at the big man with unexpected anger. "You don't want to believe me because you'd much rather turn me and my wife over for that reward money. Does that convince you?"

"That ain't no secret," Jayne spat. "Hell, anyone here coulda told you that. Tell me somethin' you ain't s'posed to know," he challenged.

"It doesn't work like that. I can't just go digging through your mind and pull something out. You have to be thinking about something for me to read it. Even then, interpreting thoughts is not as easy as it sounds. It's far simpler to pick up on emotional states since they're more universal."

"Some reader," Jayne snorted contemptuously.

"What does all this have to do with the Academy?" Simon interrupted.

"The Academy was meant to be a place to study psychic phenomena and help people who exhibited abilities like ours. It was supposed to be a refuge," Matthias lowered his head, his anger turning quieter, more distant.

"What happened, then?" Inara quested with her particular style of gentle encouragement.

**§9.** "Some people in the government got ideas," Matthias' answer was rife with bitterness. "They decided that psychic talents represented a vital strategic and military asset and saw an opportunity to use them. After the war, apparently there were some in Parliament who were willing to go to any lengths to prevent such a situation from happening again. Maybe their motives were honest, I'll never know. Lord knows I never want to live through that again. I survived the war on Athens, although..." his voice caught and he swallowed heavily, "my first wife and daughter did not." The pang of loss from him that slipped through River's mind was heartrending and nearly brought tears to her own eyes. "But I moved on," Matthias recovered and soldiered forth with his tale. "Afterward, when the Alliance started taking note of my research and invited me to join the Academy, I thought I had finally found my calling.

"You see, no sensible person believes in mind reading or other psychic abilities. It's just not possible. That's what my parents told me when I was first able to explain to them the strange feelings I had. They thought it was a phase and assured me I would grow out of it. But I never did. And as it persisted, it started to take its toll on my mind. I grew more unstable and gradually became so unable to function that they had no choice but to institutionalize me. I know it tormented them to do so, but they believed I truly was crazy. I believed it, too, much of the time. What else was I to think? So from my pre-adolescent years until I was well into my teens, I spent most of my life in and out of mental wards. But eventually I learned a few tricks to cope with it. I also read whenever I could. Books, I mean. I was a bright student and I kept up with my studies as much as possible. I delved especially into psychology and the physiology of the brain because I needed answers. Part of me knew I was not crazy and was convinced that the things I felt were real. I just had to find a way to prove it. By the time I was eighteen, I had my talents under control enough that I could be 'reintroduced' into society. I applied to the University of Athens and even won a scholarship. I entered their med school and pursued a specialty in neuropsychiatry, all the while dedicating as much of my time as I could spare to trying to uncover the origins and nature of my ability. After I graduated, I secured a decent position at the university as a researcher, and it became my passion. Colleagues warned me it was professional suicide, but I could not ignore what I knew was the truth. I devoted everything to my research and published papers containing what I thought was irrefutable evidence of my discoveries, only to be met with disbelief and even outright derision. The university did not take kindly to one of its researchers espousing such dubious claims and my fledgling career was soon in jeopardy. I started to doubt myself again. Then the war came and rendered all that moot. After I lost my family, it did not seem to matter anymore, and I was ready to give up. That was when the Academy contacted me and I found out I was not alone.

"It turns out near the end of the war the government had started investigating the possible existence of psychic talents on its own. Apparently, while my research was languishing in academic oblivion, it was providing scientists at what would become the Academy with key insights that led to huge leaps in understanding what those abilities were. My guess is they planned to utilize them in espionage or other some other way during the war, but the fighting ended before they could advance that far. The research continued, however, even though the immediate threat was over, funded and fueled by the pet insecurities of those few in Parliament and the military who knew about it. Of course, the work was done in complete secrecy to preserve their precious advantage."

"Typical," Mal muttered.

"In a way it makes some sense if you think about it, Captain. What if the discoveries were made public and it was revealed that readers were out there among us? Assuming you actually believed it, how would you react to the sudden revelation that your neighbor might be able to pry into the most private sanctuaries of your mind? You see, they knew they had to be in control of both the knowledge of the existence of these abilities and the people who expressed them, if only to preserve social order in the Verse. Again, whether their aim was benevolent or not is beside the point. They sought me out for whatever reason because I was a gold mine- a scientist who not only understood these abilities, but had them as well. Which was why they more or less forced me to work for them if I was to be allowed to continue in my research. If I knew then what was to come, I would have gladly abandoned it all, but at the time I was ecstatic. Someone was finally acknowledging my accomplishments and offering me all the resources I could ever want to further pursue my studies. It was the best possible turn of events my life could take. The government was particularly interested in children so it could study the growth and development of psychic traits over time. It created a school of sorts- the Academy, as you now know, to seek out and recruit these youths, and I was assigned to head it. When I got there, my task those first few months was to locate as many young people of talent as I could. I scoured news feeds, medical records, case studies, and even the gossip and tabloid columns. Then I went bouncing from one end of the Verse to the other tracking down the leads. Most were dead ends, but a few did bear fruit. Some of those I found were in terrible mental shape, even worse than I had been as a youngster. There was very little I could do for them. But others were fairly well-adjusted, figuring out ways to live with their abilities as I eventually had. I interviewed them, tested them, discreetly, of course, and invited those whose profiles fit the government's interest to come to the Academy. I could hardly wait to begin studying them, and learning from them as well. I had no doubt they could teach me as much about our shared talents as I could teach them. It was a dream come true.

"But the dream didn't last long. I wasn't even in charge a full year before I started noticing some insidious changes. They were unassuming at first, a few more military personnel about, and more interest in specific applications and capabilities than pure research. Later, though, there was considerable pressure for my work to yield practical results. It was disconcerting, but I considered it simply a consequence of working for politicians and military men who wanted their investment to serve some practical purpose. It was only when they started pushing for more 'rigorous' methods of study that I really became concerned. They were asking me to implement techniques I considered unethical and even dangerous. I tried to fight them as best I could, but despite being in charge of the program, I quickly realized I had little real power or control. Whatever the initial goals of the Academy had been, they were soon subsumed by far more important political and military aims. I lost control of funding and hiring staff. Because of my opposition to the new methods, I was not allowed contact with any students or access to the latest data. I was forced into an administrative prison where all I did was fill out forms and file meaningless reports. Finally even that was taken from me when the Academy was folded into the military's Special Weapons Research and Development division. At that point, I was given an ultimatum- work for them and do as I was told, or spend the rest of my life in a prison colony."

"Was that when you left?" Kaylee asked. Matthias glanced sidelong at her and sighed heavily. His head hung between his shoulders, and River felt shame and guilt pressing about him like an invisible leaden aura.

"No," he carried on, his voiced muted as he remained looking at the floor between his knees. "I caved. I hoped that if I agreed, I could still affect some influence on the direction of research, be a moderating force. But I was fooling myself. In reality, I was simply too afraid to do anything else. So I signed my life over to them and betrayed everything I had been trying to do and build there. After less than a month of seeing what they were doing, and what they were trying to do, I knew I could not live with myself if I stayed. So I fled. That was in December of 2512."

"You've been on the run for more than six years?" asked Simon.

"Yes," Matthias nodded, raising his head again. "I've been moving from planet to planet, and so far have managed to stay out of the Alliance's way. I came to Paquin three years ago, and that's when I met Anna. She reminded me so much of what I was like when I was younger, still innocent and thrilled with the discoveries I was making as a university student and researcher. She was so special. We shouldn't have stayed so long, but we had started to carve out a bit of a normal life for ourselves. I should have known it would catch up to us eventually."

"You said Anna was different. What did you mean by that?" Inara asked, picking up on that earlier detail. River glanced up, sensing Matthias' sudden nervousness. He was hiding something, something to do with Anna. He was afraid, too. It was a deep, sickening fear, a helplessness that she had only known once before, when Simon lay wounded and bleeding on the floor of Mr. Universe's complex. She realized that Anna was everything to him. He was afraid to lose her, and he would give up his life to keep her safe. Whatever secret he held, he could not be sure it would not put her in danger if he revealed it.

"No sense in trying to explain it. You wouldn't believe me if I did," was all he said.

"We've heard you out this far. She got somethin' to do with why the Alliance wants you?" Mal prodded.

"No, they want me because of what I know, both about readers and the Academy. They don't even know Anna exists, and that's the way it will stay," he vowed.

"You seem pretty adamant about that," Zoe edged in.

"Yes," Matthias' answer came out stern. "They can't get a hold of her. What the Academy would do to her is..."

"So, she's got somethin' special about her, then. Somethin' the Alliance might want," Mal continued to press. Matthias met Mal's gaze with stubborn silence, but River caught a quick mental flash from him, a brief replay of her attack in the cargo hold. Matthias had told Anna to do something, but without speaking. Then there was the explosion and…

"She caused it," she said, figuring it out. Matthias shot her a surprised stare. It morphed into a furious glare and his mental impression on her awareness suddenly retreated. It was not completely gone, but just vague and imperceptible like it had been when she first tried to read him.

"Caused what?" Inara turned to her, along with the captain.

"She caused the storm in the cargo hold. With her mind," she elucidated, and Matthias looked away from her, his expression both angry and fearful.

"You're kidding, right?" Zoe responded with rational disbelief.

"Is that how it is?" Mal asked Matthias. Matthias shifted defiant eyes up to the captain, but his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Yes," he returned quietly, looking away again.

"You're saying she's telekinetic?" Simon asked, equally as skeptical as Zoe. "That she can move objects with her mind?"

"Not just anything. Only very small things. Like…"

"Like air molecules," River quipped for him. He threw her another look, though more acceding than angry this time.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"She caused me to go flyin' over that railing and smash my face?" Jayne snapped from the wings.

"In a manner of speaking."

"_Gorram_ it! Any other psycho skills you got that you mighta forgot to mention?" the mercenary exclaimed. Matthias ignored him, turning back to Mal.

"She isn't dangerous," he said. "I'm sorry about wrecking your cargo hold, but she only did that to protect us. But now do you understand why the Alliance can't find us? They can do whatever they want to me, it won't matter. But if they found out about Anna, found out what she is…." he gulped down his last words, unable to consider the thought.

"Don't take much to imagine," Mal's gaze wandered pointedly from him to River. Then his eyes drifted away, turning inward into contemplation.

"Are you satisfied now, Captain Reynolds?" Matthias questioned after enduring the silence for a space. "Do you still wish to throw us out of the airlock?"

"You and your wife'll be safe here for the time being," Mal responded, coming back to himself. "Leastways until we figure out what we're gonna do."

"And what are we gonna do, sir?" Zoe ventured a little crisply. "Chrysabel's gonna be wavin' us back soon, if she hasn't already."

"Who is Chrysabel?" Matthias wanted to know.

"Our contractor, and the one who tried to sell you out."

"I'm very sorry to put you in this position, Captain," Matthias shook his head sadly. "We just wanted to get to Georgia, maybe see her parents on Regina. She hasn't seen them in four years. This wouldn't have happened if we hadn't waited so long." Mal's lips pursed, a clear indication that he agreed wholeheartedly, but he had enough tact not to say so.

"You let me deal with Chrysabel. We'll figure out a solution to all this in due time."

"Thank you," Matthias breathed with true gratitude. Mal nodded brusquely and headed towards the stairs.

"What should the rest of us do?" Kaylee asked.

"You got chores," he waved his hand as he climbed to the upper deck with Zoe as his shadow. Jayne cast a scowl at Matthias before including River in the look, although the intensity of it diminished slightly as he did.

"_Gorram_ moonbrains," he grumbled irritably and turned towards the cargo bay.

"Dr. Harder," Simon approached Matthias.

"Please, call me Matthias," the other doctor corrected.

"Yes… Matthias. How much do you know about what the Academy did to their… subjects?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. As I said, I left before I was corrupted too much by their efforts."

"But you understand more about it than I do." Matthias' eyes slipped from Simon to River, and she knew he was picking up on the same desire from her brother that she was.

"You want me to help you figure out what they did to you sister."

"Yes. I've tried everything I can think of for River, but I just don't have the right knowledge. And if you can… read her, maybe you can find some clues to what they did and how to reverse it." Behind his carefully couched request, River sensed in Simon a swelling of hope. It was not the cautious optimism which had accompanied most of her gradual recovery, but an honest and true belief that maybe with Matthias' help they would finally unlock the answer to healing her completely. It was so vibrant she was almost afraid to share in it lest she taint it somehow with her own misgivings.

"It may not be as easy as you think," Matthias gently cautioned, "but I'm willing to make the attempt. If she consents to it," he met River's eyes again, and she looked away.

"Thank you. I know it will be difficult, but we…

"I appreciate your care for your sister," Matthias interrupted calmly, but with some authority, "but River has to agree to accept my help herself. You cannot speak for her. What you're asking might require me to do more than simply read her surface thoughts, and even that I would never do without permission. However, those kinds of deeper probing can be very… unpleasant for another reader to endure."

"You mean you haven't read her yet?" Simon asked, confused.

"Only brief glimpses. Incipient thoughts. The most basic survival skill a talented individual learns is how to block his or her awareness of others' minds. Reading her, or anybody, without permission is an unconscionable violation of privacy," he leveled a serious gaze at River and she understood his ire at her before when she had picked the clues about Anna from his mind. But how did he expect her to avoid it when it was right there at the forefront of his thoughts?

"You can control it?" Simon went on.

"Yes, of course."

"I don't think River can," Simon glanced back at her with a frown.

"What?" Matthias looked truly shocked.

"I think they made her that way, so she has to feel, but I don't know why. They stripped her amygdala and that might have made it hard for her to…"

"That's… that's… are you sure?" Matthias interrupted, face growing more aghast.

"I did a scan of her myself not too long ago," Simon nodded. Matthias' sick expression held out a few more seconds before he suddenly flushed scarlet.

"Those…. _chi mei_! Barbarians!" he snarled with enough force that River began to grow a little frightened. "I saw where they were headed, but I can't believe they actually went that far!" He shook in his rage, clenching his fists on his knees and staring a hole in the wall. Eventually, though, his anger faded down and he hung his head, shaking it several times. When he looked up, his eyes held nothing but sympathy and sorrow. He rose slowly and walked over, kneeling at the foot of the stairs before River. "I'm so sorry," his voice wavered a little with awkward emotion. "I don't know what they did to you, but I'm sorry for whatever role I may have played in it, and for failing to stop them." Almost involuntarily, she met his eyes and could not look away. Deep within those blue-gray pools, she saw a torment not unlike her own. The Academy had hurt him, too, taken away his life and dreams. But it was the guilt that scarred him the worst. Guilt that he had not done enough, that he had run and left those he had meant to help to suffer instead because he was too weak to face down their tormentors. It had always been there, gnawing away in the background, but now it hit him like a punch in the gut. She had made it real. It was too much for her to endure. She tore her gaze from him and stared off to her right at an innocuous corner of the floor. Anything to just not have to feel his emotions anymore. Matthias stood up and moved a step or two away, also looking off into space at something unseen. Then he turned to Simon. "Of course," he told her brother gravely. "I will do everything I can to help her."

* * *

Major General Daniel Kriegel shut his office door and dropped into his chair. He was a middle-aged man, balding, and with a slight paunch from years of more desk work than drills. His face was permanently blotched with redness, giving him the appearance of always being angry, or of having just eaten something extremely spicy. However, his aura was one of solid, steady authority. He was a man used to giving orders and being obeyed. Right now though, he sighed, the burden of that authority stooping his shoulders a bit. He leaned back in his chair and opened the lowest desk drawer to reveal a bottle of bourbon and a tumbler. He poured himself a glass and replaced the liquor. Taking a sip, he logged into his com station. A myriad of messages flooded his screen, and he gave each subject line only a cursory glance over the rim of his glass. His eyes stopped roving when one in particular caught his attention. It was a simple automatic notification from the Fugitive Task Force's central command. He opened it.

_Alert: Report submitted on possible whereabouts of known fugitive: Harder, Matthias._

_Date: 2519/03/14_

_Location: Paquin._

_Reliability: Credible._

_Report transmitted to quadrant commander for further investigation._

His stomach turned in sudden, giddy flips, both from the alcohol and his growing excitement.

_Matthis Harder! After all these years!_ He switched to his Cortex screen and searched for the wave code of the quadrant commander in charge of Paquin. Locating it, he signaled the wave to transmit and waited for a response.

"Heinlein Command," a secretary answered.

"This is Major General Daniel Kriegel of Special Weapons Research and Development. I need to speak to Commander Babcock right away please."

"The commander is out in the field, sir. If you'll wait, I'll attempt to connect you."

"Thank you." Kriegel downed the last mouthful of bourbon and put the glass back in its drawer while he waited.

"Sir," Commander Babcock's face popped up on his screen with a smart salute.

"Commander, I received a message from the Fugitive Task Force about a lead on Matthias Harder."

"Yes sir. I'm following up on that now."

"What's the status?"

"We lead a raid on a group of traveling musicians based on a tip from a local casino owner. We believe the fugitive was hiding among them, and we were able to confirm that afterward."

"But…"

"But the fugitive was already gone. He booked passage on a ship bound for New Melbourne according to statements from the musicians. Left this morning right before the raid."

"Was he tipped?"

"We don't know, sir. It's interesting. The ship he left on was a transport hired out by the very same casino owner who called in the report." Kriegel frowned. That did not make sense.

"Did you find the ship?" he asked.

"We're trying to track it down. We have a name, though. _Serenity_. Firefly class transport."

"What?"

"_Serenity_, sir. It's not showing up in any of the registration databases. Most likely it's a stolen vessel, probably doing some smuggling for the casino owner." Kriegel stared off into space, barely hearing the rest of Babcock's assessment. There had to be some mistake. It could not possibly be the same ship. "Sir?" Babcock, questioned his silence.

"I'm sorry. Have you put out a system-wide bulletin?" Kriegel shook himself back to reality.

"I haven't yet, but…"

"Don't," Kriegel interrupted. Babcock frowned at him.

"This is a very sensitive situation, Commander," Kriegel explained. "Matthias Harder is the most dangerous fugitive in the entire Verse. He was a SWORD scientist, and he may be privy to a large amount of classified information that could be devastating if it got into the wrong hands. There have been no credible leads on him since Beylix five years ago, and any widely-publicized alert might drive him underground again. Continue to pursue him, and coordinate with whomever you must to track him down, but do it as discreetly as possible. We cannot let him escape us again, Commander. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." The commander swallowed a little before responding, his words coming out just a tad nervous. He saluted again and Kriegel ended the wave. That was a lot of pressure to put on a Border quadrant commander, Kriegel thought, but if Matthias Harder really was out there, and on board _Serenity_ no less, they had to find him as quickly as possible. There was no telling what might happen otherwise. Pouring one more glass-full of bourbon, he typed in another wave code.

"_Ni hao_," a dark-faced man answered the wave.

"Soong," Kriegel greeted. "We need to talk."

**§9.** Sylvan, "Signed Away," _Presets_, 2007

1 _gaowan_- testicles

18 _wu yong_- worthless

2 _feng_- crazy, insane

3 _chi mei_- demons


	8. Chapter 8

In Kriegel's office the self-darkening windows were active despite the fact that it was late at night. Maybe he was paranoid, but he liked the extra assurance that no one could see in. He paced to the door, double-checking to make sure it was locked. After a moment's consideration, he unlocked it and stuck his head into the hallway. Not a soul was about in either direction. He closed and locked the door again, jerking the knob to ensure it was latched tight. Then he shuffled back to his desk, checking on the two spaces splitting his com screen. One half was occupied by the amber face of Soong Chu-yu, Representative from Sihnon and Chair of Parliament's Military and Security Oversight Committee. The other half was black, its occupant still missing. Kriegel paced some more.

"My apologies, gentlemen," a slightly breathless voice issued from the com a few minutes later. Kriegel stopped mid-pace and scooted quickly over to his desk. The empty half of the monitor was now taken up by an aged man with flabby jowls and barely enough hair to cover the liver spots on his balding head. William Halmer, the Director of the Security and Intelligence Agency, bowed in apology. "Representative Locherbie's hearings are taking up most of my time, as you know. I did not get your wave, Soong, until a little while ago."

"Hearings my _pi gu_," Chu-yu, cursed in quiet fury. "So, now that we're all here," he reserved a pointed glance for Halmer, "Dan, bring us up to speed."

"Yesterday the Fugitive Task Force received a report that Dr. Matthias Harder was on Paquin. Apparently he was hiding out with a group of traveling musicians. Commander Babcock from the Heinlein quadrant command launched a raid this morning, but Harder had already boarded a ship for New Melbourne."

"So someone alerted him?" Chu-yu interrupted.

"We don't know. But we do have the name of the ship."

"Good. He can't get far, then."

"It's more complicated than that, Soong. According to the other musicians, the ship was _Serenity_." The representative's expression froze, staring hard out of the com screen. Kriegel imagined the shock on Chu-yu's face mirrored his own when he had learned of that same detail.

"_Serenity?_" blurted Halmer, equally astonished.

"Yes," Kriegel verified.

"That's not possible. _Serenity_ was downed on that com station rock," Chu-yu found his voice again and protested.

"But, if you remember, that report was filed by an Operative who deserted before his data stream was even fully uploaded," Halmer shot an accusatory look at the representative.

"Obviously the veracity of that report is suspect," Chu-yu bristled. "But the larger issue is, if it's true that _Serenity_ is still flying under Captain Reynolds, and he has picked up Harder, what are the implications?" There was silence all around for a few seconds.

"It's possible Reynolds was attempting to set up a meet with Dr. Harder," Kriegel spoke first.

"Go on," said Chu-yu.

"The ship was hired by the same person who called in the tip," he explained. "Reynolds may have been trying to locate Harder through this contact, but it seems the reward got the better of her. Commander Babcock has been trying to verify that, but she's been somewhat less than completely forthcoming about her motives."

"You're suggesting a conspiracy? Reynolds and Harder working together?" asked Halmer.

"Yes, possibly," nodded Kriegel. Chu-yu's brow knitted tight.

"But how did Reynolds locate Harder when we haven't had a viable lead on him for five years?" Halmer continued.

"Reynolds has contacts throughout the Verse, both legitimate and otherwise," answered Kriegel.

"Why now, though? If he knew about Harder, why didn't he try to contact him before Miranda?"

"Maybe he didn't know. Someone in his network could have informed him afterward."

"Either that, or we have a leak," Chu-yu surmised. Kriegel fell silent after that one. It was bad enough what Reynolds had figured out about Miranda and made public to the whole Verse. What Harder knew could add to that damage exponentially. But if someone on the inside was feeding information to Reynolds, there was no limit to the havoc the man could wreak. It did not quite add up, though. All of his people who might even serendipitously come in contact with sensitive information of this level had been thoroughly vetted, their backgrounds probed and scoured and their present lives monitored down to every last movement. Still, only a fool believed than any security measure was foolproof, and Kriegel was no buffoon. He would have to go back and check all of the staff at the Academy, just to be sure. Halmer should do the same with his SIA Agents, and Chu-yu with his committee members and Operatives…

"_Ai ya! Huai le_," Kriegel almost slapped his forehead when obviousness of it hit him. "We do have a leak." The other two looked at him, surprised. "There is only one person who could have allowed _Serenity_ to escape and given Reynolds the knowledge to track down Harder."

"The Operative," Chu-yu proposed after a moment of brief consideration. Halmer's eyes widened as he connected the dots as well. Kriegel nodded.

"Miranda might have emboldened Reynolds to push even further, so, with help, he tracks down Harder. If Harder cooperates with him…" Kriegel extrapolated.

"But it'll all be hearsay from the mouth of a disgraced researcher," Halmer countered. "He still won't have any proof."

"Yes, he does," Kriegel corrected. "If _Serenity_ is still flying, we should assume that the Tams are alive as well. River Tam would be all the proof he needs."

"This is _da tou fo_!" Chu-yu exclaimed bitterly. "You realize this could lead to a security breach orders of magnitude larger than Miranda. Then every _hun zhang_ Border world politician like Locherbie with Independent leanings would have the self-righteous justification to call for hearings and trials and investigations. It would threaten the stability of the Alliance as a whole!" he lamented. "I will not stand for that!" His outburst dried up the conversation for a few seconds. The representative composed himself again in that space. "Harder and _Serenity_ must be neutralized," he declared more calmly. "Dan, I'm putting you in charge of this. I'll get in touch with the Fugitive Task Force and let them know you are to take over this particular operation by my mandate."

"What do you prefer?" Kriegel asked.

"Capture alive Harder and River Tam, if possible. Harder may be the larger problem. He's too dangerous to let escape again. If you have no other options, terminate him. River Tam is a different matter. Do we still have some control over her?"

"I'll check with Dr. Qin, see what our options are," Kriegel advised.

"Do it.

"What about _Serenity_?"

"Reynolds is not one to give up on a cause just because it's hopeless. He'll go down fighting. The rest of the crew are a liability," Chu-yu shrugged. "Alive, if possible. Then we can at least interrogate them about what they know and who they told. But, do what you have to," Chu-yu emphasized.

"Yes, sir," Kriegel acknowledged as Chu-yu's half of the screen went black without any parting from the representative. Halmer nodded in silent seriousness before his image vanished as well.

Kriegel drooped in his chair, feeling the fatigue starting to get to him. He could not rest yet, though. He pulled out his stash of liquor and poured a generous glass. As he did, he punched in another wave code. It took a long time for an answer, but, then again, it was late.

"_Ni hao_." The video was so dark Kriegel could not make out the face, but he recognized the sleep-slurred voice.

"Dr. Qin. Sorry to wake you, but I have some urgent business."

"Oh, Major General. No, no problem at all," the doctor composed himself a bit. A light flicked on, illuminating the man's round face and unruly mop of black hair.

"We may have located River Tam again," Kriegel explained. Dr. Qin blinked several times as he absorbed that fact. "I need to know what strategies we have to recover her."

"Um… yes, sir, well… River Tam was one of only a few subjects to remain intact enough to be deployed. But even she did not complete the program entirely before she escaped. We could try the same method used to track her down before, sending out triggers across the Cortex," the doctor suggested, but he did not sound very optimistic about it.

"What's the issue with that?" Kriegel voiced his concern.

"Besides the fairly low probability of success by sending out random waves, she may not respond even to the triggers anymore," Dr. Qin explained,

"Why not?"

"Well, her conditioning is going to start breaking down, though some of the alterations made to her will slow its decay. However, she's been without regular exposure to those triggers for two years. We were fortunate last time that something still remained. There's no telling how much that might have changed in the last few months. She may still respond, or she may have forgotten."

"So you're basically saying we have no way of definitively reaching her, that it's all a gamble?" Kriegel summed up. Sheepish, Dr. Qin shrugged.

"Well, keep working on it, Doctor. This is highest priority now. I need you and your team on this right away. Dig into her file, find anything that might be useful."

"Yes sir. I'll get right on it."

"Thank you. I'll be down first thing in the morning for a briefing." He turned off the doctor's face and threw back his drink. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

River crept downstairs on padded feet. She wore socks this evening, as the floor felt a little colder than usual. She was groggy and tired, and though she had steadfastly avoided even the barest glance in any reflective surface, she could feel the deep bags under her eyes. After the morning's tumultuous events, she did not dare let herself fall into anything deeper than a doze. Nightmares lurked on the edges of unconsciousness and she jerked herself awake every time she came close to slipping under. She had no inclination to find out what terrors her subconscious had prepared for her. So, after only a few fitful hours of rest, she muscled past the weariness to rise and attend to her duties on the watch. On the bridge, though, Mal informed her that he was taking her shift and that Simon wanted to see her down in the infirmary. She got the impression that this relief from her responsibilities was borne out of her brother's request, although perhaps Mal was not quite ready to completely trust her again with flying the ship on her own. Logically, it made sense. Any reasonably responsible captain would give her some time to recover rather than risk her making a mistake under stress. Inside, though, she sulked. They did not understand that being in charge of the ship, that _doing_ something was more of a relief than any amount of rest could provide. Unoccupied, her mind had nowhere to turn but in on itself, and that was when the worst came out. But, she only acquiesced to the captain's instructions in silence and turned around. Plodding through the foredeck, she could already guess what Simon wanted to see her about. More than likely it involved something with Dr. Harder and his promise to help. She thought again of Simon's hope and wished she could share in it, but she could not. Something still made her nervous. She had only a notion of what lay in those dark corners of her mind, but that was more than she wanted to know. If Dr. Harder went probing around inside her, she did not think she would like what he found, and neither would he or her brother. Still, she could not deny Simon the chance make some progress. She only did not want to see his hope shredded again, or worse.

_Tiger in a cage_, the metaphor came to her unbidden. Beyond the bars that guarded the darkest recesses of her subconscious, she sensed the presence. Its eyes watched her. That was what disturbed her most of all. Whatever construct the Academy had created out of her conditioning, it was only now that she was really becoming aware of it. She knew it had always been there, but never as anything more than a dark place she feared to tread. Now it was like there was another person, another River inside her. That was all the more frightening because it was equally aware of her. It studied her with the eyes of a predator. The same eyes the captain had seen. The same eyes she knew she would see in her reflection again if she looked hard enough. A tremulous shudder went through her as she mentally fled from its gaze, her steps through the dining area unconsciously increasing in pace. She hoped Simon knew what he was doing.

She treaded downstairs into the common area, finding Kaylee chatting with Anna on the couch. Apparently the woman had recovered from her attack in the interim, though her cheeks were still a touch wan and her posture was limp enough to suggest she was probably too weak to move with any haste. Her face held a smile, though, as she conversed pleasantly with the mechanic, and she seemed at ease. Kaylee tended to have that effect on people. It was just her nature. It was also inevitable that the mechanic could not stay away from their passengers for long, regardless of whatever apprehensions she had about earlier events. Her genuine inquisitiveness was stronger, and they were far too fascinating to leave alone.

"So, bein' able to move things with your mind must be pretty handy 'n all," Kaylee was saying. Anna smiled, a little embarrassed.

"Well, I can't move just anything. Only really little things a little bit."

"Yeah, that's what Dr. Harder said. But I don't get why not?"

"It takes a lot of energy."

"Like more than it would to move somethin' normally?"

"Yes. I think," Anna sounded unsure. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm not real good at explaining it. I just do it. Matthias tried to tell me once how it works, but even he's not certain. I'm trying to remember how he said it," she pondered, one finger rubbing her cheek. "Um, let's say I wanted to lift this cup," she leaned over the table and picked up Kaylee's teacup. "My muscles use energy to get the strength so I can lift it. But there's nothing like muscles to turn what I've got in my mind into a force. It's just energy, so all I can do is send it out. With something like the cup, it'll take a lot more energy than I have to cause it to do anything. Eventually it might get warm, but it's not gonna go anywhere. But with air, the particles are so small it doesn't take much to get them moving."

"Oh, I get it," Kaylee's eyes lit up. "It's a kind of radiation. Like the sun causing a breeze on a hot day. That makes sense. So, you're like a tiny little sun. Isn't that shiny?" Kaylee beamed.

"I guess so," Anna shrugged, coloring slightly.

"So, what's it like when you're tryin' to move the air, like that windstorm you did in the hold?" Kaylee pressed on. Her curiosity as to how things worked was insatiable, and Anna was not exempt from it.

"Umm… it's kind of like… well, I guess lightning and thunder is a good example," Anna struggled for the right analogy. "I store up a bit of energy and release it all at once, like a lightning bolt, and it hits the air and makes it move." Kaylee leaned closer, eyes eager.

"Can you show me a little bit? Just once?" River piquantly sensed Anna's surprise at that request. People just did not go around asking her to demonstrate her telekinetic ability, especially not after she had thrown the cargo hold of their ship into disarray with it. She was far more accustomed to being treated like a freak of nature at the slightest hint of difference. Caution, honed over the years, automatically fell into place and she regarded Kaylee with skeptical glance. It quickly softened, though, as she sensed, as River did, the mechanic's honest interest. It threw her a bit, but she ultimately agreed to the demonstration.

"Okay," she said with a hesitant smile. Kaylee sat back, excited and grinning. Anna closed her eyes and concentrated. Watching, River felt an odd tingling in her mind. It was that pins and needles sensation when her hands or feet fell asleep, though not nearly as uncomfortable, and it was dancing across the surface of her brain instead. A tension gathered around the room. Although it was not visible, when she closed her eyes, she could almost see it mentally. She sensed a bubble of energy swelling around Anna like a dome. It grew as the energy built until, with a nudge from Anna's mind, it popped suddenly. The swell of power surged out into the room. As it rolled past River, a light breeze kissed her face, tickling her cheeks and rustling her hair. On the couch, Kaylee giggled with glee, clapping like a little girl.

"Ain't that the neatest thing?" Kaylee declared, turning to her.

"It is," River agreed, a wisp of a smile touching her lips as she shared in Kaylee's delight. Anna blushed and looked down at her lap, but she was smiling as well.

"River?" Simon interrupted them. He was standing at the infirmary door, waiting for her. River's pleasure at the little miracle drained away, and with it the brief distraction from her fears. Tension and anxiety returned in full force and she dropped her head, her smile disappearing. She felt rather than saw Anna make a conscious effort not to shudder, and a sting of envy and anger swam through her. It was not fair that she could not control it. Anna could do something amazing and wonderful with her talent, and all she could do was cause pain and distress. She swallowed the bitter taste suddenly in her mouth and willed her reluctant feet towards the infirmary. Without looking, she sensed Anna and Kaylee's eyes on her as she walked past. Kaylee's sisterly concern flooded over her, but she was surprised by the instant burst of clear encouragement from Anna.

_Don't worry. Things will be fine_, the words rang clearly in her mind in the woman's musical voice. River saw no reason why Anna should care in the least about her, especially after she had nearly killed her, but there it was. Doing her best to taking up the reassurance, she tried to maintain a positive tack. Maybe Dr. Harder really could help her with his knowledge. Maybe he would find a way to free her from what the Academy had done. But as she stepped inside the infirmary, a third set of eyes was also upon her, invisible to everyone but her. The tiger prowled behind its bars, its attention fixed on her. Beneath its compassionless and almost mocking gaze, all her hopeful thoughts withered. She sought refuge in her garden, transforming it with a frantic thought into a dense jungle to hide her from those terrifying eyes, but that was only a temporary escape. She knew with the instinctual certainty of a prey being stalked that was only a matter of time before it hunted her down. She did not know how long she could run from it. She only knew if it caught her, it would leave nothing behind.

* * *

"I sure hope your husband can help," Kaylee turned her worried eyes away from the infirmary as the door latched. "Simon's worked so hard, and he cares for her so much." Anna offered a sympathetic smile.

"He'll try his best. It's the least we can do after bringing all this trouble down on you."

"Oh, the Cap'n wouldn't have hurt you," Kaylee passed the woman's comment off.

"Yes, he would have," Anna's voice softened, her eyes down. "If he thought we were going to harm any of you." Kaylee looked down as well. She did not like to think of the captain as a bad man, because deep down she knew he was not. He just often did not have a choice. Just like River. She heaved a sigh and fell back a little on her cushion.

"Why is it that bad things gotta happen to such good people?" she asked in general. "I mean, I ain't really religious an' all, but Shepherd Book always used to say things happened for a reason. That God had a plan, you know." She looked toward the infirmary again, shaking her head slightly. "I can't see why God's plan would be to do somethin' like that to such a sweet girl."

"I don't know if there is a plan," Anna said, following Kaylee's gaze. "But I do believe we can always change our lives. Look at me. I grew up on Regina. My momma and daddy worked in the mines. They figured I would, too. That's just what you did. But I wanted to play music instead. They thought I was bein' foolish at first, but I worked hard, and I didn't give up, and I got to live my dream, at least a little bit. Sure, I still got Bowdens, but…" She glanced over to the infirmary. "She'll get better," she assured Kaylee. "Nothing is preset." A hint of smile touched Kaylee's eyes, and a renewed hint of hope.

* * *

With a terrible mix of both guilt and hope, Simon stood beside his sister as she endured Dr. Harder's examination. River was reclined in the exam chair, but was anything but relaxed. Her jaw clenched tight and her nails cut into the plastic padding. Expressions, none of them pleasant, twisted her features as her eyes twitched beneath their lids. A fine glistening of sweat reflected the overhead lights off her brow and she trembled occasionally. Dr. Harder stood opposite of him, eyes shut, face slightly upturned but without expression. Watching the two of them, Simon felt supremely helpless. A part of him ached to put a stop to this and just wrap River in his arms and comfort her. He resisted the urge, reminding himself that it was necessary, that whatever Dr. Harder uncovered might help, but it still tore at him mightily. As it was, he could not even hold River's hand in support. Dr. Harder had cautioned that it might be more of a distraction. So he stood by and did nothing, waiting with agonizing patience for the thing to end. To that extent, though, he knew that as bad as it was to watch her endure it, he could not comprehend what his sister must actually be feeling. She had turned a faint shade of green when Dr. Harder explained that she would have to remember as much as possible in order for him to get a sense of what the Academy had done to her, but she made no complaint. She simply nodded and closed her eyes. He could not imagine the strength it took to submit to that, and it awed him in a way. Any normal person would have probably broken down into a gibbering mess long before this. He knew he would have. Of course, he also knew that River was not normal.

**§10.** He could tell almost from his earliest memories that she was special. He guessed that was why he had always felt so protective towards her. Not that she really needed him to look out for her back then. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, even from an early age. In part that was the by-product of her intelligence, and in part it was due to their parents' busy lifestyle which did not always leave them time to spend with their children. He had learned to be pretty independent himself early on for that same reason. But despite how brilliant and capable and intelligent she was, there was always something about her that made him want to keep her sheltered. Maybe he resented her innate brilliance just a little bit and compensated by trying to keep her to himself, but perhaps he also sensed that she was just too unique for the Verse to really appreciate. He could appreciate her, though, and believed he could act as a buffer between her and the outside world which was not always so accepting of difference. However, even he eventually came to realize that he did not fully understand the scope of just how unique she truly was. As the girl he knew blossomed into a young woman, her perceptions, always keen, became startlingly uncanny. He saw the way her eyes captured the most subtle details others missed, and how she listened with such intensity it was like she heard not just the words spoken, but everything unspoken behind them as well. She also lost some of her childish fancifulness. She could still be a brat and never tired of showing him up. That was always her way of teasing him and having fun. But those kinds of expressions of playful affection they once shared grew less frequent as she became more serious, and just a touch withdrawn. That concerned him. She never had much problem fitting in with other children despite her differences, but as she entered secondary school she was also entering that stage in life where social conformity was so integral to identity. She never said anything, but he was sure her uniqueness made her a target for some of the insecurities and jealousies typical of teenagers. That was why he was initially glad when she chose the option to attend the Academy.

But it was not until her final dance recital before she left that the profoundness of her exceptionality fully hit him. He remembered it vividly. The way she danced across the stage, her movements all fluid beauty and grace, it was mesmerizing. He never had much depth of appreciation for dance beyond her performances, but at this one, something changed. Her motions did not just give the piece a visual dimension. Somehow it was like she was translating the music through her body, as if she could reach beyond the sounds and structure to find the composer's emotions and draw them out with her limbs. Though he knew how hard she had practiced, it looked effortless, performed with an elegance that was as natural and inborn as a bird taking to the air. It was staggeringly beautiful, magnificent. Whereas up to that point she was still his little sister the genius, now he recognized that she was something much more, something so much greater that it almost hurt to be reminded of how overwhelmingly average he was by comparison.

At some point, when he was able to tear his eyes away and look around at the audience, he saw it was not just him. Every face was transfixed on her. Some were rapt with joy or delight, others with envy, but none could take their gaze from her. Most amazingly, though, was that she was not even aware of it. Or, given what he knew about her now, maybe she was aware, but it never seemed to affect her. She was always humble, demure, without a hint of arrogance. She never deemed herself superior in any way, but had instead always admired him and regarded him as the special one. He saw it in her face whenever she looked at him. It was one thing she could never hide. That was why it hurt so much when he got her back and found her gone. All that magnificence and promise had been twisted, distorted, and warped. It tortured him to see her graceful movements now timid and uncertain, her eyes fearful and inward-looking. Part of him cursed himself as a failure for not being able to help. He wanted to be like her then. For one day, just one day, he often thought if he could see into her dreams, hear the words she could not speak, and bring it all out into the open, then he would know what to do. But he was not like her. He was not special. He was a doctor, not a reader. So he did what he could, all the while hoping and longing for the day when he might be able to bring back the sister he remembered. It was all he could do, and the reason he kept going.

River uttered a little gasp on the chair and her eyes flew open. She breathed heavily, her pupils out of focus and staring at the ceiling. Simon tensed, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. In the meantime, Dr. Harder staggered and collapsed into the spare chair near the door. Strain was evident beneath his pale and sweaty brow as well. He did not speak either, but just sat there, catching his breath and holding his head in one hand. A violent trembling shook River from head to toe and she closed her eyes again, wrapping her arms around her. She started shivering. Simon turned and fetched a blanket from one of the cabinets.

"Are you okay, _mei mei_?" leaned over her, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. Even though it was clear she was not, she nodded anyways. "I'm very proud of you," he told her, giving her hand a powerful squeeze. She squeezed back wordlessly. Dr. Harder sighed loudly from his chair and Simon glanced over, waiting for his report.

"I'm so sorry," he said, the apology directed at River. His eyes were laden with guilt and sadness. "I was afraid of them doing things like this when I left, but I never saw it. I never imagined they would do it." He shook his head, at a loss.

"What did you find?" Simon asked.

"She's been through hell," Matthias said with flat honesty. He took another deep breath. "The psychological trauma she experienced is… extensive. But, with time and therapy, she'll heal, I think. If she's endured this long, she has the strength to recover. The physical damage, though, that is permanent. But, the brain is plastic. It can adapt," he said, not without hope. "Once the psychological damage heals, the rest will be much easier to deal with. You're a remarkable girl in more ways than one," Matthias' words carried an air of admiration for her. "I know it was not easy." River nodded but did not look at him.

"Can I go now?" she turned to her brother, almost child-like. The urgency with which she wanted to get out of the infirmary was plainly evident.

"Yes," Simon nodded. She tossed off the blanket and disappeared out the door and up the stairs, Simon watching her the whole way.

"I'm sorry to have to put her through more when she's seen so much," Matthias apologized again.

"It's all right. If you can help her, that's what she needs. Besides, she had a choice this time." Matthias nodded, but his face was troubled.

"There was a part of her mind that I couldn't read, Simon. It was a dark spot, something that was blocked from her consciousness. Whatever it is, she was conditioned not to notice it. I only realized it was there because, when she got close, she got caught up in all kinds of fear and avoidance that kept me from seeing in."

"Do you have any idea what it is?"

"I have a guess. I think it is where they put her conditioning. You said before they activated her with a subliminal message. I think that is the only way to access it, with the right conditioned stimulus as a trigger. They created an alternate personality with the conditioning and kept it dormant until they needed it. It explains why she can't remember what happened during the times she was acting under its influence."

"Why would they do that?"

"Think about it. If you are going to create a weapon, what's better than one who doesn't even know what she is? One that you can turn off and on when you need to, and who will have no memory of what she does. It makes it virtually impossible for anyone to interrogate her and get any information, even under torture." The cold, rational logic of it made perfect sense, and it made Simon sick to think on it.

"Then why did she attack you and Anna if she wasn't triggered?"

"Maybe she was. A word, a phrase, even just a simple sound or smell could do it. They could turn anything they wanted into a trigger. Either that, or the conditioning is breaking down." He frowned deeply, rubbing his chin.

"That's good, though." Simon commented. "That means it will go away eventually, right?"

"Yes, but as her mind starts to reintegrate it, it may cause more problems."

"Like what?"

"Like memories and traits from that alternate persona might start to leak out. She might experience nightmares, mood swings, outbursts, and personality changes. It could be very unpredictable and traumatic." Simon recognized the danger now, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. He recalled his conversation with the captain several days ago. He was starting to fear Mal was right. Matthias was looking at him with an expression that was so like River that he knew the doctor had read his mind.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," Matthias flushed scarlet. "Intense use often leaves one more open and sensitive. It's harder shut things out for a while. But, you think it's beginning already with her," he said.

"Yes." Simon looked at the floor. "A few days ago she had a flashback. She saw a dead man in the dining area and said she had blood on her."

"Did she recognize him?"

"No, but it terrified her." Matthias shook his head, laying a supportive hand on Simon's shoulder.

"We'll keep an eye on her. As long as I'm here, I'll help you to help her. There's bound to be more, and she will need all the support she can get when it comes."

"Thank you," Simon uttered his gratitude.

"One more thing," Matthias added. "This is only speculation, but given what I've seen and the _bing tai__6_ of those at the Academy, I would not be surprised if they did it."

"What?"

"When you create a weapon, you have to be able to stop it if needed."

"You mean the safe word that makes her fall asleep. I know about that."

"No, I'm talking about if the weapon gets compromised." Matthias' look sent chills thrumming through Simon.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean a self-destruct mechanism. I don't know for sure if it's there, because if it is, it's probably part of her conditioning, where I couldn't see. I just thought it would not be right if I didn't warn you about my concern."

"Thank you," Simon managed to say, his throat and mouth suddenly dry. All this time it was possible that the Alliance could have sent out a message, just like the one in the Maidenhead, and simply killed River if they wanted to. For once he felt supremely glad that his sister was still so valuable to Alliance.

* * *

Night was pressing on into the next morning by the standard clock. Sitting up on River's shift, Mal was exhausted. But even exhaustion could not stop his mind from running through the sheer incomprehensibility of his situation over and over again. He had decided to halt their course for the time being. No sense in continuing on to New Melbourne now. Even if Chrysabel, by some unlikely miracle, had a change of heart, the Alliance would surely be waiting for them there. Getting off the Cortex nav beacons and hiding out in the black was the best way to avoid being tracked. Now, that just left him with two pairs of Alliance fugitives, a full three of the four being readers. He shook his head, resting it against his hand as he leaned on the control console. Jayne was right. Something about him must attract all the crazies in Verse. He rose from the helm and wandered towards the galley. He needed a drink to calm his mind and his nerves. He found the whiskey Jayne kept around and poured a glass. A rustle of clothing caught his attention, and he turned and found River there at the door. She was dressed as she had been earlier in an old floral shirt and sweatpants that were cast-offs of Kaylee's. She paused at the bulkhead and stared at Mal as if she did not expect to see him there. There was something desperate in her eyes that sounded a warning bell in his mind. He did not see the lifelessness of the weapon in them, but she looked spooked as hell, even worse than she had been that night he found her in here screaming about a dead body.

"You alright?" he asked.

"No," she all but whispered in answer and wrapped her arms around her like she was cold.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No," she answered again, but she paced across the dining area and pulled up a chair at the table. Mal followed her with his drink, bringing the flask with him as well.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked. She did not make an indication one way or the other, so he took the seat across from her. He eyed her carefully over the rim of his cup as he sipped his drink. Her head was down and her face hidden behind strands of dark hair, but every few seconds her body tensed or her fingers twitched on the tabletop. Then she would forcibly relax, sometimes with a small shudder. It was as if she was fighting some silent, internal battle. Draining his cup, Mal wondered just what exactly Simon and Dr. Harder had put her through down there. He poured himself another round, starting to feel a little disgusted by it all. He knew Simon would do whatever it took to help her, but after what she had been through recently, her brother might not have pressed the issue so soon. Of course, he had not exactly been the most compassionate towards her, either. A hound of guilt gnawed at him as he took another swig. He should probably apologize again, but damn it all if he was not just terrible at that sort of thing. Besides, what was he supposed to say? _Sorry for imprisoning you in your room when you went psycho and tried to kill someone on my ship. Next time I'll be more understanding_.

"Don't need to apologize," River spoke softly. Even so, he still jumped a little in surprise. She glanced up at him. Her eyes were big, limpid, and clear, with that blunt, sometimes distant honesty that occasionally affected her. "You were just trying to protect everyone. Including me."

"Don't make me feel much better about it," he said, tossing back the last shot so he would not have to meet her gaze.

"No. But it was the right thing to do. Still dangerous. Something's still not right inside."

"Maybe so. But we all got our own demons to contend with. Yours are just a little different than most."

"They're still afraid."

"Who is?"

"You. Simon. Everyone. Saw what I did. Even though it wasn't me," she looked down at her hands, dark hair falling over her face once more. In those oversized clothes, it made her look very small and vulnerable.

"It ain't that we're afraid of you, albatross. It's just that…"

"You can't explain it. Shouldn't have happened. There was no trigger." Mal sighed. She was right. Her sudden shift into the Academy assassin at the Harders' presence was inexplicable, and more than a mite disconcerting. He wished he could feel differently, if only so she would not have to know. But there was no changing it. "It takes a long time for an albatross to learn to fly again once its wings are broken. Sometimes it can't." She looked at him between strands of her hair and smiled sadly. "May I have a drink?"

"Don't know if that's such a good idea," he said, a touch unsettled by her remark.

"It helps quiet the voices. And right now I don't think I can stand to listen to them anymore." Her words broke at the end, and Mal saw she was trembling slightly now. She was on the edge, barely able to hold it together against whatever was tormenting her inside. His better instincts warned him against it, but he had been to that place before. He could not deny taking refuge from his troubles in a bottle more than once. Hell, what else was he doing right now?

_Let he who's never drowned his sorrows cast the first stone_. He filled his cup and slid it over to her.

"Thank you," she murmured and took a sip, face still half-hidden in her hair. Mal gave her a tiny smile. Then he got up and went to the galley, came back with another cup, and filled it up. They drank together, enjoying each other's company in silence.

After sharing a couple more rounds, River eventually vanished off to her room, leaving Mal alone again to ponder, this time more on her than anything else. Even two years after escaping the Academy, she was still suffering. It had left an indelible mark on her one way or the other. Although he was no less desirous than Simon to see her cured, he considered himself a little more realistic about that expectation. It was probably true that her experience was not so different from his in the war. But after that valley, there was no way he could have remained the same person he had been before. Maybe he was a little damaged. Well, more like almost certainly. But maybe he was a little stronger, too. That was life in his estimation. It kicked you down, and you just had to get back up, brush yourself off, and keep flying. That was how he got on. He figured River could do the same, as long as she was given the chance. However, he did not think she would ever be the girl her brother knew before she went to the Academy. That was what he did not want to share with Simon that night in the infirmary. He did not think the doctor was ready to face it yet.

Maybe that was why he kept giving her a chance, though. From the beginning, through the Maidenhead, and even after this most recent episode, he saw something of himself in her that he could not turn his back on. That was his role, to give her the chance, to do what was right by her. And if he could do that for River, he thought, he could certainly spare some for Anna and Matthias. They did not deserve the horror the Alliance was sure to inflict upon them any more than River did. The choice was really no different from when he decided to keep the Tams on board, or when he risked his and his crew's lives to expose the secrets of Miranda. No matter the headache and heartache it might cause, it was the right thing to do. He swallowed the final drops of his last drink, remembering the words Book had once counseled him with not too long ago. It was his way. Taking that bittersweet memory and rolling it into his resolve, he set down cup and rose. He discovered he was a little more giddy than he anticipated, but that did not make a difference. Hell, maybe that was his way, too. Carefully, but with determined purpose, he marched towards the foredeck to wake his crew. They had work to do.

* * *

"I don't like it, sir," Zoe, sitting sideways in the copilot's seat, shook her head negative.

"I didn't say I liked it, either. But our options are kinda limited." Mal was at the helm again. The plan he had conjured was far from ideal, and success was by no means certain, but it gave them a chance, and that was what they needed. Of course, given the circumstances under which he had hatched it, which was to say still mildly intoxicated, he could also be completely off his nut. So he ran it by his second in command as usual. He could trust Zoe to tell him if his brain was missing, sober or not. So far she had only expressed general misgivings instead of outright derision, and that boded pretty well for it, all things considered.

"I still don't see why we just don't turn 'em in. Be the easiest thing to do," Jayne suggested. He lounged against the bulkhead, snacking on some protein chips. Mal was not in the habit of letting his mercenary perform critical evaluations of his schemes, but on the other hand if Jayne thought it was too harebrained to work, he knew something was wrong with his head. Jayne's concern, though, was mostly on how he was missing out on a fortune in reward money.

"We already had this discussion, Jayne," Mal addressed him.

"A million credits'd go a long way towards easin' my conscience," Jayne mumbled under his breath.

"Look, we're not turning 'em in. End of story."

"It does make some sense, though," Zoe took up the argument unexpectedly.

"What part of 'end of story' didn't you understand?"

"See, even Zoe's thinkin' it," Jayne garbled through a mouthful. "You're damned heroic sense of honor's all that's holdin' us back, Mal." Mal bristled, his face darkening with suppressed anger.

"Even if we could arrange it so the Alliance wouldn't find us, after all we been through with Simon and River, you wanna throw these two to those _hen du she yi_?" he asked quietly. Neither Jayne nor Zoe met his eyes. "We stick with the plan," his tone brokered no more argument. "If we get boarded, we hide 'em. There's plenty of places they can stay out of sight, no matter how hard the Alliance looks. We've smuggled things past them before."

"This is a little different, sir."

"Not so much."

"D'you think Chrysabel will buy it?"

"Don't really matter. I hope to be well on our way to the next system by the time she finds out. Now let's get a move on. The longer we sit here, the more likely the Alliance is to catch up to us. Find us a new course, Zoe. I'm gonna go brief the others."

"Yes sir."

The concept was to make it look like Anna and Matthias had escaped in one of the shuttles and then make for the nearest planet, maybe St. Albans or Anson's World, and send them on their way. It took Kaylee about an hour to connect one of the shuttles' transponders to a nav sat and reprogram its guidance system. Then all they had to do was input the coordinates of Paquin and set the little satellite loose. It would appear to anyone monitoring the nav beacons that the shuttle was actually on its way there. Because the satellite was no longer linked to _Serenity_'s nav computer, Kaylee also had to patch together a remote to fire its thrusters using the radio once it was launched. It was not the prettiest system, but Mal trusted the ingenuity of his mechanic. Besides, it was either that or start from scratch again, and he did not think they had that much time to spare. When it was ready, passengers and crew alike clustered on the bridge, anxious to see if the decoy craft would work. The heavy thump of the bay doors closing echoed through _Serenity_'s halls. At the controls, River eased the Firefly backwards until the tiny satellite was visible in the bridge viewports.

"We're clear," she said, holding _Serenity_ steady.

"Thank you for this, Captain," Matthias spoke up. His voice was thick with genuine emotion.

"Save it for when your feet are on the ground, Doctor. You ain't out of the woods yet."

"All the same, I know you didn't have to do this."

_Yes I did_, Mal thought, but he did not say it aloud. "Well, if you don't mind, you probably don't wanna be on screen when I make this wave, seein' as you're supposed to be on a shuttle that you just stole," he cast Matthias a glance. The man nodded. He took his wife's hand and they made their way off the bridge. Mal sat down in the co-pilot's seat and was about to enter Chrysabel's wave code when, uncannily, the console started flashing. He opened up the wave channel to accept the call, and the Gangster of Boats' stormy face appeared on screen.

"Captain Reynolds," she greeted icily.

"Miss Chrysabel," he returned the same.

"I assume you're on your way back to return my fugitive by now. This is the last chance I'm giving you."

"Well… no."

"No?"

"You see, there was a slight problem."

"Captain, if you've killed my fugitive…"

"No, he's still very much alive for now. Though, he didn't take too kind to my attempts to lock him up. Kinda made a break for it."

"You're in space. Where could he possibly have gone?"

"He stole one of my shuttles."

"Captain…"

"_Xiao bu ren ze luan da mou_, Miss Chrysabel. There's no world close enough that shuttle can make it to. And I've got the transponder code right here. You can have the Alliance pick him up at your leisure. Though I'd advise not too leisurely a pace. Shuttle life support ain't unlimited."

"How do I know you ain't playin' me for a fool?"

"Because not even a fool'd want the complications this little event's put upon me. I don't want no part o' this. You hired me to do a job, and that's what I'm gonna do." Mal had no intention of fulfilling his contract now or in any possible future he could foresee, but if he could keep her thinking that his word was good, it would complicate things far less. Chrysabel regarded him with calculating assessment.

"You're not off the hook yet, Captain. If he's not on that shuttle when they find it…"

"Well, that's your and the Alliance's problem. If I was you, I'd go along with 'em. Make sure they cut you a fair deal. Alliance been known to be less than generous with its reward money."

"Well, thank you for your advice. I'll…"

"_Zen me de liao!_ Sir," Zoe interrupted just as the proximity alarm began with its shriek. "Alliance frigate, moving in fast!"

"What's going on?" Chrysabel demand as a second wave alert flashed on the official channel.

"I guess your Alliance pals ain't that into leisure. Sorry, gotta go."

"If you disconnect me again…" Mal did.

"Everyone stay calm." He turned to Zoe. "Get Anna and Dr. Harder someplace safe. Go!" He spun to his mechanic. "Kaylee, engine room. Get her warm in case we need to move fast. Everyone else except River off the bridge." He waited for the extra bodies to clear out, then, with reluctance, he opened the wave channel again. The stark face of an Alliance officer stared back.

"Transport _Serenity_, this is Commander Babcock of the Alliance frigate _Lancer_. You are ordered to hold your position and prepare to be boarded. Any sudden maneuvers will be construed as an attempt to flee and you will be fired upon."

"This is the captain of _Serenity_. No need for violence, Commander," Mal tried to sound as nonchalant as he could muster. "We'll gladly hold for you and prep for docking. However, I believe what you're after is no longer on board. He snatched one o' my shuttles and lit on outta here not but a few minutes ago. If you hurry up, you can probably catch him before he makes it too far."

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds," Commander Babcock started formally, ignoring Mal's words. "You and your crew are hereby bound by law on the charges of conspiracy and harboring and transporting known fugitives through interplanetary space. All persons on board will assemble in your airlock. You will turn over the fugitives known as Matthias Harder, alias Wray Shen, as well as Simon and River Tam. All of you will be transferred to the brig aboard the _Lancer_, and your ship will be towed back to Paquin and impounded." Mal's heart dropped. He looked to his pilot whose eyes were now big with nervous fright. He licked his suddenly dry lips, trying to put on his best innocently confused face.

"Uh, I'm sorry, Commander, but we ain't got no fugitives on board. As I just pointed out, the one that was just escaped in my shuttle, which I'd like to have back when you catch him, if you don't mind. You can check with Miss Chrysabel on that as I just spoke to her. I'm sure she's been workin' with you to resolve this to her satisfaction."

"She has no standing in this matter. We are well aware of who you are and who is on your ship, and our sensors have picked up no other craft in the vicinity. If what you say is true, we will locate the shuttle in due time. Meanwhile, you will comply with those orders, or you will be treated as hostile." Mal's thoughts raced. Babcock was serious. Perhaps he could still convince the commander that Matthias had taken the shuttle, but only until the frigate got close enough to see both of his shuttles were clearly in place. Not that it mattered much now. They had to get away somehow, but his playbook was running out of pages. He watched the starlight glint off the gray bulk of the frigate, still several kilometers away, but closing fast. They could run, but that would only give them a few seconds before the first missile tore them apart. Nothing short of going to full burn would get them out of targeting range quick enough, but without the time to cover their tracks, their course could be traced through the nav beacons. They could do a quick burn without guidance, but that only forestalled the inevitable. The frigate could follow _Serenity_'s wake without much trouble over that short a distance. And even if it did buy them some time, that still left the problem of getting somewhere safe with no way to use the Cortex beacons. _Gorram_ it, if only they could… _Of course!_

The idea struck him with all the blinding clarity of desperation. It was crazy, dangerous, and likely to get them all killed, but it was not like any of those things had ever deterred him before. Besides, it was their only shot. He glanced down at River and caught her attention. She looked up and met his gaze for a long second. Her eyes widened as understanding dawned on her face. Her fingers started flying over the keyboard almost instantly. Mal had to admit, her being a reader came in handy every so often. She needed some time, though, so he still had to find a way to stall the commander a little longer. His eyes drifted to the satellite still floating a ways ahead of _Serenity_, and directly ahead of it, the _Lancer._ His mouth quirked into a wry smile. At least one thing managed to go his way. Now, as long as Kaylee's rigged ignition system worked...

He waited, barely containing his nerves, until the _Lancer_ was less than a kilometer away and nearly stationary.

"Captain Reynolds, you will remain on com while your ship maneuvers into docking position. Once locked, you will power down and assemble in the airlock as instructed. Is that clear?" Commander Babcock ordered. Mal flicked his eyes down at the helm. River nodded up at him. Her face was a little pale, but her hands were steady on the control yoke and her mouth set in a firm line. The timing could not have been more perfect.

"Certainly, Commander." He reached for the radio, set it to the frequency Kaylee had programmed into the satellite, and pressed the button to open the channel. For a split-second of gut-wrenching panic, nothing happened. Then the satellite's thrusters ignited with a blue flare and it shot off directly towards the frigate.

"Commander, we've got an unknown bogey inbound and closing fast!" someone off-screen called to Babcock.

"What?"

"It's on a collision course. Impact in twenty-five seconds!"

"A missile?"

"I don't know, sir. It's small enough, but… impact in twenty seconds!"

"Take evasive action! Target it for intercept and lock onto _Serenity_ as well!"

"Aye sir!" Both Mal and River's control consoles screeched as the _Lancer_ set her sights on the ship while at the same time trying to shift her bulk out of the way of the oncoming satellite.

"Fifteen seconds to impact!" someone on the frigate called out the satellite's progress.

"Targets locked!" another answered.

"Ten seconds!"

"Fire!" Babcock shouted.

"Go!" Mal hollered, but River was responding even before the first syllable was out of his mouth. She kicked _Serenity_'s jets to life. Even at full power, though, they still needed a few seconds to accelerate the ship to maneuverable speed. Mal's eyes could not get any wider as he stared at the _Lancer_'s deadly warhead racing towards the viewports. "_Gorram_ it, this was a bad idea!" For another excruciating second or two, the missile closed in rapidly. Then, at the very last possible instant, River suddenly rolled the ship and dived at an angle. Leaning hard on the control stick, she threw them down and away from the missile. The weapon roared by so close that the hull actually shuddered from the vibration of its engine, but it was unable to track the maneuver. A lesser man might have closed his eyes and screamed in terror, but Mal figured it was the artificial gravity failing to compensate for the violent turn that caused him to momentarily black out and lose control of his vocal cords. When he could see again, there was clear space ahead of them. Knowing that the missile would be coming back around and that they were still well within range of anymore the frigate cared to fire, it was time to skedaddle. "Kaylee, full burn on my mark!" he shouted hoarsely over the com. "I sure hope you didn't make a mistake," he gave a River full look.

"Course locked, nav computer set, helm secured!" River called off. "Cutting jets… now!" She flicked off the ignition switches just as their consoles started screaming alarms again.

"Now, Kaylee!" The Firefly's rear end lit up like her namesake insect and she tore off into the black, leaving the missiles and the _Lancer_ in her plasma-trail wake.

**§10.** Sylvan, "For One Day," _Presets_, 2007

1 rear-end; ass

2 "Oh no. It's ruined."

3 complete mess (literally, "big Buddha head")

4 bastard; scoundrel

5 hello

6 sickness

7 venomous snakes

8 "Anger and haste hinder good counsel."

9 "This is one hell of a mess."


	9. Chapter 9

Kriegel slouched over his desk, one hand bolstering his chin while the other held the electrofilm readout containing the latest report from the Heinlein system. His drooping eyes drifted to the clock on his com screen and noted that it was getting well on towards evening.

_Already?_ he thought with more glum exhaustion than disbelief. He leaned back in his chair and passed a hand over his face. He had scarcely left his office in the past four days and events were beginning to blur together. He managed to snatch a scant bit of sleep when he could, an hour here, fifteen or twenty minutes there, but otherwise every spare moment had been dedicated to coordinating the operation to locate _Serenity_. And if that was not taxing enough, he had to grapple with Chu-yu as well. Checking the clock again, he realized the representative would be expecting another pointless update on the progress of the search in a few minutes. A resigned sigh suffused Kriegel's frame. It was no use arguing with the man. He had demanded he be kept in the loop with regularly scheduled briefings, even though there was nothing to report but the continued lack of any development. Commander Babcock had his entire force scouring the quadrant, but it had been impossible to track _Serenity_'s course so far. Captain Reynolds had employed a desperate maneuver to escape the _Lancer_. Burning without nav sat guidance for any length of time was about the most dangerous thing in the Verse one could do. Even the worst fool of a captain knew how frighteningly easy it was for a ship flying blind to be obliterated by a collision with any one of innumerable uncharted objects, or to stray so far into interstellar space that food and fuel would fail long before it could get back on course. But Kriegel knew that Reynolds was no fool. In fact, he was quite the opposite. And without a pulse beacon to trace or a nav sat trajectory to follow, the daring move had effectively made _Serenity_ vanish. However, it was still a calculated risk, and Reynolds could not have hazarded a burn of more than a few minutes at the most. Anything more was nigh on insanity. That meant the ship could not be far off of the established navigation routes, or too far outside the system. It was only a matter of time before they would have to signal one of the Cortex beacons to at least verify their position. All Kriegel had to do was wait for them to poke their head out of the proverbial hole, except that he did not have the luxury of time. Every moment lost was crucial now. Threats against the Alliance might have been set in motion already. There was no telling what Reynolds could have done with the information he had gotten from Dr. Harder. He needed to draw them out now. Fortunately he had hit upon a possible solution in his last consultation with Dr. Qin. However, much to his irritation, Chu-yu had balked at it. True, it was risky in the sense that it might potentially draw some unwanted attention to the Academy, but it had a better probability of success than sweeping an entire quadrant grid by grid and giving Reynolds time to plan his next move. At this point there were few remaining alternatives. In his view, it was time to take a preemptive tack rather than struggle to mitigate the fallout after the fact. He was not looking forward to another argument with the representative, but it was the only way forward that he could see. Punching in Chu-yu's code on his com, he considered his strategy as the broadwave connected.

"I hope you have some good news for me this time, Major General," Chu-yu answered without even bothering to greeting him. "Do you have them yet?"

"No," Kriegel reported wearily. "Commander Babcock still hasn't been able to locate _Serenity_."

"This is _bi bi du mao han bi_! You're telling me you can't find one _lan bao_ Firefly?" Chu-yu erupted. Kriegel restrained himself from snapping back, although plain exhaustion prevented him from doing so more than anything. He was well used to these kinds of outbursts from the representative, and most of the time he did not let them bother him. But in a situation like this, it was a real pain in the ass. It did not help that, despite being the head of a military oversight committee, Chu-yu had never actually been in the military. As a result, he did not have a grasp of the complex details this kind of operation entailed, and neither did he care to find out. He simply issued orders and expected results in return. But that did not change the fact that Kriegel was still ultimately accountable to him, so he summoned his discipline and endured the abuse with stolid patience.

"There is a lot of space to cover, Soong," he tried to explain. "A needle in a haystack doesn't begin to come close to describing it. Unless they access the Cortex, there is no way we can track them. Which is why, as I said before, I think we need a change of tactics."

"I told you I'm not interested in that option," Chu-yu stonewalled.

"Why not? The background we have on River Tam suggests we can get her to come to us. If we can reach her, we stand a much greater chance of bringing them all in."

"And what about Harder? He has no loyalty to the Tam girl or to Reynolds. He most certainly won't fall for a ploy as obvious as that. He'll slip away and we'll never find him again. Are you suggesting that we should capture Reynolds and his crew at the expense of letting the Verse's most dangerous fugitive go free and clear?" Chu-yu mocked.

"Yes," Kriegel answered simply, with a bit of delight when the representative's face deflated in surprise at his reply. "Whatever Harder knows, he most likely told Reynolds already," he went on. "If Reynolds finds a way to get that information out, it will make no difference whether we find Harder or not. The damage will be done. What really matters is stopping Reynolds and discrediting his information, and the girl is the key to doing that."

"It could drive them out further, where we would never find them," Chu-yu shook his head, his sarcasm replaced with uncertainty.

"But they'll have nowhere to go. Their friends will become their enemies, and those that don't turn on them will distance themselves as much as possible."

"You're sure it will work?" Chu-yu remained dubious.

"The psychological profile in her records supports it. This might be one thing River Tam will still respond to," Kriegel confirmed. "Besides, if it doesn't work, we'll be no worse off than we are now."

"That's assuming your security measures are sound." The parliamentarian's mouth worked around in consideration for several seconds. "Fine. You have my permission," he conceded. "Go ahead with the operation. But you'd better get them this time," Chu-yu warned and then terminated the wave as abruptly as he had begun it. Kriegel sighed again. At least he had succeeded in making his case this time. Even with that behind him, that still left a few more waves to make, and then a personal visit to get the ball rolling. It was going to be another sleepless night.

* * *

Chrysabel frowned at the half of her screen displaying her business accounts, and then at the man who occupied the other half. His smile was one of unflappable calm. Somehow he even managed to be a bit ingratiating. The perfect gentleman, this one was. She did not trust him a millimeter. She checked her accounts again. The balance had increased in the second or two since her last glance at it. He had actually come through. "Well it appears you are a man of your word after all," she dryly commented. He smiled genially.

"As I promised. I know the amount is not as much as what you would have liked, but I would feel remiss if I did not compensate you some for your trouble."

_Trouble indeed_, the Gangster of Boats thought. "I appreciate the gesture," she said aloud. She was sorely disappointed at missing out on the million credits, but fifty thousand was not a paltry amount. The whole deal had turned into one big cluster, and she was ready to take anything away from it that she could.

"I thank you for your assistance. The information you provided is of great importance to my purpose." His smile was just as smooth as ever.

"You're welcome," she replied, now wondering suspiciously who had gotten the better end of the deal.

"Good day, Miss Chrysabel," he inclined his head gracefully and vanished from her screen.

* * *

Four days out from her encounter with the _Lancer_, _Serenity_ was drifting aimlessly. The mood on board was decidedly subdued, everyone keenly feeling their lack of direction in the deep black. Even Mal seemed lost as to how to escape the predicament they found themselves in. Instead of his usual scheming, he had called just one meeting to advise everyone that rations were limited to two protein supplements each per day. The ten days' supply purchased with Chrysabel's advance plus whatever they had leftover from before would barely last them long enough to get anywhere. The reclaimators would hold out their water supply for a bit longer than the food. Not that they had an actual destination. River had been constantly at the helm since their escape, calculating their change in their position every hour or two. In the intervals when she was not doing that, she was focusing her every faculty solely on keeping whatever was inside her from breaking out. She managed to maintain a functional appearance and perform her duties keeping the ship from drifting too deep into the black, but only just barely. Meanwhile, her condition was deteriorating rapidly.

**§11.** The presence inside her had now become a creeping ooze, insidiously slipping through the cracks in its mental cage to reach out and influence her. She realized the danger that first night after their escape when Jayne dropped a cup while she was in the dining area taking her rations. She sprung out of her seat at the noise as if a grenade exploded in the room, landing in a defensive crouch on the far side of the table. Jayne just stared at her with a mixture of surprise and mild amusement. He may have found it funny, but she was terrified. She only just caught herself as the colors started fading, stopping on the verge of doing who knew what. After that, she sequestered herself in her room as much as possible, locking the hatch as a precaution lest she suddenly lose control again. She did not dare sleep. She did not know if the sinister persona inside her could slip its restraints while she was unconscious, but she had no intention of finding out. Meditating in her garden was her only escape, but soon even that would not be enough. Those eyes were always waiting for her when she came back, lurking just on the edge of the darkness. She was growing dangerously unstable with each passing day, and she knew she had to find some way to keep it in check, if only to protect the others.

Her first thought was to appropriate some smoothers or sleeping meds from the infirmary, but Simon was meticulous with his inventory and he would notice immediately. So she turned to the only other option she could think of. She snuck a jug of Kaylee's homemade wine into her room. Over the next several days it became her routine immediately upon her brief respites from duty to seal herself in her quarters and drink into a narcotic stupor. The alcohol numbed everything, including the dangerous presence. Once it was sedated, or at least her body was too impaired for it to be a threat, she collapsed onto her bed, welcoming the blissful silence that enveloped her. Unfortunately, that was only a temporary solution. The contents of the jug disappeared more rapidly than she anticipated, so in desperation she resorted to thievery, stealing shots of Jayne's private stock of whiskey. Fortunately Jayne was not nearly as fastidious about keeping track of his liquor as Simon was about his meds. But when that eventually ran out, or Jayne finally did take notice, she would have no other recourse. She cut back on her "dosage" to stretch her pilfered supply, taking just enough to fog up her mind, but it was barely adequate to keep the presence at bay. She had to devote more and more conscious effort to resisting it, and it was a battle she was slowly losing. Each day her mirror returned a reflection that was more hollow and weak. Dark bags lurked beneath her sunken, glazed eyes. Her mouth was pinched in perpetual strain, and an increasingly sick pallor colored her skin. She was just a shell, a spiderweb of cracks through which more and more of her was slipping away. And between those cracks, she caught glimpses of a frightening apparition. Its face was hers in superficial appearance, but it was indomitable and lifeless instead, made of cold stone and steel. There was not a gram of mercy or a trace of care in those features. And as her fragile façade inexorably weakened and decayed, she knew it was only a matter of time before there was not enough substance left to keep her together, and she would shatter, leaving nothing at all to hold back what was beneath.

When she had to leave her room to take the helm or get some food, she assiduously avoided everyone else. Exposure to their thoughts and emotions only further strained her ragged control. With everyone distracted by the apparent lack of a way out of their current predicament, no one took much notice of her withdrawal except Simon. He knew something was wrong right away, and he tried everything to convince her to let him help. At first he urged her to let Dr. Harder work with her some more, but she flatly refused, too frightened of what might happen if the other reader got into her mind again. Stymied there, Simon next tried to convince the captain to relieve her until he found out what was going on. In other circumstances she knew Mal would not have hesitated to assent, but right now all that stood between them and the oblivion of uncharted space was her constant monitoring of their position. He could not afford to take her from the helm. Without any other recourse, her brother could only watch in silent helplessness as she continued to retreat from him. His confusion and frustration was palpable and hurt her terribly, but she was growing more convinced that there was nothing he could do. It was too dangerous to let him try. She could not live with herself if he was the one she harmed when her control slipped. But even worse, she knew he would blame himself for failing to help. He would never give up trying to save her. He would sacrifice everything, more than he already had, and it would kill him one way or the other. She could not let that happen.

The days passed on their exile, marked only by the unperturbed march of the digits on the clock and River's ceaseless vigil against the darkness inside. Another shift rolled around and the alarm screamed at her once more. She slapped it off. It took her a few seconds to haul herself upright and then she spent another half minute sitting on the edge of the bed holding her head. It ached with the thick residue of alcohol, but that was something she was already getting used to. Ignoring the unsteady rocking of her cabin, she heaved herself off the bed. She tugged on pair of stained cargo pants, formerly Kaylee's, and a long-sleeve shirt, left her hair in its sleep-styled condition, and climbed out of her bunk to head back on the watch.

"I'm tellin' ya, Mal, someone on this boat's a _gorram_ thief!" she heard Jayne ranting from the bridge as she approached the stairs. "Ain't hardly none o' my stash left. It's pro'bly them two 'fugees."

"Why would they be stealin' your liquor, Jayne?" Mal asked.

"I don't know," Jayne fumed after a moment of thought, "but somebody's takin' it, an' I aim to find out who." He stomped over the bulkhead, descending the stairs in scowling mass. River pressed away from him against the railing and made sure to keep her eyes down until he was well into the foredeck hall. Only then did she glance at his retreating back storming into the dining area. Shuddering, a little sick with both guilt and the hangover, she took the stairs one step at a time. Zoe and Mal were both on the bridge and greeted her with silent nods. Mal got out of his seat at the helm so she could take it.

"So, back to what you were sayin'," the captain returned to whatever conversation had been going on between him and Zoe.

"I think Anson's World or Greenleaf are our best options," said Zoe. "They're out of the way of where we were headed before. Alliance won't be expectin' us to be able to make it that far off our original course."

"Greenleaf's got too much security, and there's nobody on Anson's we can trust," Mal shook his head in disagreement. "Besides we don't got enough supplies. We're already rationing and it'll take us close to two weeks to make it to either of those places."

"Well, we can't go on to New Melbourne. Going back to Paquin is out, and anyplace else in the system will take us even longer to get to. I don't see any other choices."

"There's St. Albans," Mal suggested. "It's closest, and we could hide out with Tracy's family for a space 'till we figured somethin' out. They always said they'd repay us for bringin' him home."

"That's on the way to New Melbourne. Do you really think the Alliance won't be watchin' for us there?" Mal did not disagree with his first mate, and River saw his suggestion had been more hopeful than realistic. He pursed his lips and folded his arms in consternation. "Sir, we have to make a decision soon," urged Zoe.

"I know," Mal growled at her. "You think I don't know that?"

"Then what are we waitin' on?" Zoe snapped, sharpening her tone as well. They locked gazes, but it was the captain who backed down first. He released a bitter sigh of defeat.

"Can you get us to Anson's World without usin' the Cortex, River? River?" River did not realize he was speaking to her at first. Eyes closed, she was preoccupied with fighting a sudden wave of nausea most likely brought on by the hangover. She opened her eyes to find Mal's stern face waiting for an answer. Zoe was watching her, too, but with a more careful look than the captain.

"Yes," she nodded, swallowing the sick feeling and willing some concentration into her still dulled mind.

"Shiny. Get on it, then. I want to get there fast and get out faster. Call Kaylee when you're ready," Mal instructed as he tromped toward the exit. "Meantime, we're down to quarter rations until further notice. Hopefully that's enough to keep us from resortin' to licking protein bar wrappers from out of the trash," he said and disappeared down the stairs, leaving River and Zoe on the bridge.

River turned her attention to programming the nav computer with their new destination while trying to ignore the first mate's presence. The older woman appeared focused on some details over at the navigator's console, but River felt her attention clandestinely on her. The sense of scrutiny grated against her raw nerves and she could not completely shut it out. Distracted, she made a mistake typing her commands and had to erase the last few keystrokes, frustration causing her to hit the delete key rather harder than necessary. Zoe hazarded a sidelong glance her way.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yes," River answered curtly, not looking away from her screen. Zoe stood up and moved towards the helm, hands on her hips. River hunched her shoulders against the growing tension and tried to focus on her task.

"Look like you ain't slept this whole time," Zoe assessed, clearly attuned to the notion that something was amiss.

"I'm fine," River repeated, but her words would have hardly convinced even herself.

"Talk to your brother about it?"

"Leave me alone," she snarled with a sharp glare, the harsh retort breaking free from her lips before she could stop it. The vehemence of it took her by surprise. It surprised Zoe as well who stared at her for a space before her expression hardened, eyes growing cool and distant. Anger bubbled and simmered to the surface, evaporating whatever tentative concern she might have been trying to express.

"You might wanna take care who you're talkin' to," she bit with flat and dangerous calm. "I ain't Simon or Kaylee or Jayne. I'm second in command of this ship. You got somethin' you wanna keep to yourself, that's shiny, but I got a right to ask if I feel it might be an issue. I tell the captain you ain't accordin' me due respect and he'll have your ass outta that seat before you can make a squeak of protest." _It's his seat, not yours. He should be flyin' her still_, the unspoken final thought raked its talons across River's mental awareness, full of bitter anguish. The feeling itself did not surprise River. It was impossible for her not to know, despite Zoe's best efforts to hide it. Intellectually she accepted it, knowing it was natural for the woman to harbor some resentment over Wash's death. She was not certain it was entirely unwarranted. Still, no matter how she rationalized it, it hurt. But now, with anger amplifying it, Zoe's feelings tore into her overtaxed senses without mercy.

"_Dong ma_?" Zoe snapped, and River cringed a little at the ferocity behind the words. Then, out of nowhere, a violent impulse shoved back hard against the onslaught of the woman's emotions. River's body went rigid. The shift had been so subtle this time that she did not even realize it was happening until it was almost too late. The warm brown tones of Zoe's skin had already dampened down to a charcoal gray. Her outline stood out in sharp relief against the stark and unnatural glare now radiating from the bridge lights. The console and all the other objects around her had lost all their color as well, everything muted down to blues and pales. And then she felt her sense of reality slipping, like that moment between wakefulness and sleep when she was just about to doze off. In a panic, she clawed against her receding awareness. It was like struggling to wake from the paralysis of a nightmare, except that her body was not paralyzed. She was simply not in control of it. Something else was, and it was about to hurt Zoe.

_Stop!_ she fought back with a mental cry against the urge to leap out of the helm and smash Zoe to the floor. The colors in her vision warred, a sickening dance between the unnaturally faded blues and the normal, familiar hues of the bridge. It took every milligram of her strength but she won out against the violent force and managed to stay her hands on the control console, though they trembled with the effort.

"I said, do you understand me?" Zoe repeated, her voice ringing with a military rebuke.

"Yes," River hissed, voice cracking with strain. Zoe loomed over her for a few more seconds, face dark and fearsome for its lack of expression, before finally turning on her heel and leaving the bridge without another word. River held herself in tense stillness, listening to the woman's retreating footsteps until the sound of a bunk hatch slamming cut them off. She released a shaky breath, adrenaline surging. She pried her fists open, fingers aching and palms red where her nails had dug in. She was beyond frightened. Her conditioning had been on the verge of overpowering her and she had no idea if it would it happen again. What if next time it was Kaylee or Simon or Mal? Would she have the strength to resist? She buried her face in her hands and sobbed quietly. She could not go on like this. It had to stop.

"River," Mal's voice squawked at her over the com. "Kaylee's got her prepped for burn. You got us a course yet?" River sniffed and wiped her eyes before responding.

"Almost ready," she struggled to keep her voice steady.

"Well don't dawdle. We ain't got time to waste."

"Aye, captain," she said. Then she turned to the nav computer and poured all her mind into the task, glad to not think about anything but numbers.

* * *

For the half a dozen-th time, Kaylee ambled around the engine room performing a visual inspection of _Serenity_'s core and compression block. She only gave it half her effort, though, as thanks to the five previous inspections today, she was pretty sure she knew where every weak coupling, corroded wire, and rusty conduit was. She had taken to sprucing up what she could, but truth be told there was not a whole lot to do. Much of what maintenance could be performed had already been done during the rebuild after the crash. Other issues, like the intermittent hiccup in the core, she could not fix unless they were planetside. Given their fuel reserves, they had already burned as long as they dared en route to Anson's World, so there was nothing to monitor from that aspect, either. That left her with a glut of unaccustomed free time. Normally she would relish such a boon, seeking out Inara to spend some girl time together, or, more recently, distract Simon from whatever was occupying him at the moment until he paid attention to her, which usually was not too difficult to accomplish. But this time was different. Inara's shuttle was her sanctum no longer. The Companion was living in the passenger dorm out of a leftover trunk with barely a change of clothes to her name. And concern over River once again consumed all of Simon's attention. Even their passengers, who might provide some pleasant conversation at least, seemed reluctant to come out of their room. That was probably Mal's fault, stomping about and acting all grumpy as he was. She remembered Anna's fear that the captain blamed them for their recent troubles, and she had to admit she was a mite worried herself at first. But he had not given them up, even when that frigate was bearing right down on them. When it came down to it, Mal was _wai li nei ren_.

Still, she never conjured it would be possible on a small Firefly with eight other people, but she was feeling rather lonely. With a morose sigh, she stepped through the engine room bulkhead and into the rear corridor, heading for the dining area. She had not yet eaten her rations for the evening, and her stomach was making a fair protest to remind her of that. She figured she might as well grab Simon's share while she was there and bring it down to him. He most certainly would not have eaten, either. She sighed again, her glumness deepening just a tick. She would be lying to herself if she did not admit she felt a little put out, but she could not blame Simon for devoting all of his recent time to River's welfare. She was just as worried. To everyone else she had always been "little sister," but River was _mei mei_ to her. Once she had gotten to know River, when she was acting mostly normal, Kaylee really started to think of her as a younger sister. Sure, it did not hurt to cultivate the relationship when her brother was as _qiao_ as Simon, but she never had much family, just her ma and pa. It was shiny to have someone near own age for once. Someone with whom she could share stories that might make even Inara blush, and who at the same time could help her re-wire the control module for a helium pressure-fed hydrazine thruster. But something had happened to River over the past two weeks. Kaylee did not know what brought on the change, whether it was the run-in with the Alliance or the attack on Dr. Harder, but the River she had grown to love was disappearing. Maybe it was just the new haircut, but she was not the same person. There was something… she hesitated to say "evil," but dangerous about her now. It was almost predatory, like an animal in a cage. She thought she had been frightened when River had put down Niska's guards that one time, but even then she was fairly sure River would not hurt her on purpose. Now she was not so certain anymore.

Coming down the stoop into the dining area, she stopped, as there was River at the table, chomping on her protein bar while she stared at nothing. It was not just that she was looking at a blank wall, but the expression on her face was completely bereft of anything, hollow inside as well as out.

"Hey," Kaylee swallowed and managed to greet in a small voice. It merited only the minutest shift of River's head and a twitch of her eyes. That was the greatest extent of recognition Kaylee had gotten these past few days, and she smiled painfully to cover her distress. She did not know what else to say, what else she could say. Ridden with concern and guilt, she quickly snatched food for her and Simon from the galley and hurried back down the rear stairwell. Entering the infirmary, she found Simon there as she expected, busy poring over something on the medical bay's computer screen and comparing it to his handheld Encyclopedia.

"Hey. Brought you somethin' to eat," she said as she came up behind him.

"Mmm. Thanks," Simon muttered with half a turn to her, but not breaking his attention. It was only slightly more acknowledgment than she had gotten from River. Her shoulders slumped.

"Don't forget about it," she told him as she placed the bar on the counter and turned to head out of the room. It was pointless to try to engage him further. She knew she would not get anything out of him until he finally came to bed. Then he would re-hash all of his thoughts and concerns to her before falling asleep, exhausted, only to begin again tomorrow. She always listened attentively despite the fact that most of it was doctor-y stuff she did not have the faintest notion about. It was the most she could do for either him or River, but she did not know how much longer she could keep it up.

She threw herself onto the couch in the commons. Her legs curled up beside her and she wrapped a pillow protectively against her chest, as if it could cushion the ache she felt growing there.

"Mind if we join you?" Anna's delicate request jolted her from the dregs of her thoughts. She glanced up and saw Matthias accompanying his wife into the commons. They had brought their instruments with them. "You just looked like you could use company," Anna smiled kindly.

"Yeah, I reckon I could," Kaylee managed a smile in return.

"It won't bother you if we play little, will it?" Anna asked as she and Matthias took seats.

"Oh, not at all. In fact," Kaylee said, "I'd kinda like that." Anna beamed again, settling a mandolin instead of her usual fiddle on her lap. Her face took on a contemplative look as she absently strummed a few chords.

"Ah, how 'bout this one," her eyes lit up. "It's a song we wrote to give us hope when times weren't so good." She glanced her husband's way, and Matthias gave her an approving smile, that elusive tenderness passing between them.

"Okay," Kaylee nodded, resettling herself to listen. Matthias nodded his head and tapped the face of his guitar to set the beat, and then started in. **§12.** His instrument rang clear and sharp off the metal walls, a hammered fingerstyle picking pattern over some open chords that was dynamic and expressive. Anna rooted the piece with the steady, rhythmic strumming of her mandolin. Matthias bent his head over his guitar, eyes closed, and rocked as he submersed himself in the music. Kaylee found herself unconsciously swaying as well. It was like a lullaby, cradling and supportive, but with a resolve and strength that, she realized, actually made her feel hopeful. It was as if the arrangement of the notes into the melody of the piece somehow physically captured that emotion and transferred it to anyone who heard. There was a promise in the song, without words or spoken language, that assured her things would not always be so bad. Better days were ahead and all she had to do was hold on long enough to see things through until she reached them. She shut her eyes and allowed herself to be buoyed by that promise, forgetting for a moment all the troubles that plagued her.

She did not pay any heed to how many minutes passed before the song ended with a wide strum in unison by the two players, but when she opened her eyes, she was pleasantly startled to see that the commons was suddenly much fuller. Inara was standing at the edge of the room near the passenger dorms, while Mal leaned on the railing at the foot of the stairwell. Simon had emerged from the infirmary to listen, his Encyclopedia dangling forgotten in his hand. Jayne, sweat staining his shirt, had wandered in from the cargo bay as the music lured him away from his workout. Most profound of all, though, was River's presence. She was halfway down the stairwell, listening with that signature tilt of her head. Far from vacant now, her eyes registered a contemplative, almost slightly perplexed look, as if she had forgotten what pleasantness sounded like and upon being reminded, discovered she liked it. As Kaylee's eyes traveled around the room, she realized with wonderment that there was something uncanny and far more powerful in that one simple song than the music alone. Even though she could not comprehend what it was, she was many times grateful for its existence.

"That was lovely," she acknowledged to Anna and Matthias, who were also glancing around the room at the audience they had gathered.

"Thank you," Matthias said.

"What was that called?" Simon asked, his voice quiet and just a little tight with some kind of emotion.

"I don't know," Matthias looked at his wife. "We never gave it a name."

"Maybe you should call it 'Serenity,' Kaylee suggested. "It fits her perfectly, don't it, Cap'n?" Mal actually did not disagree. He just nodded, his expression distant and thoughtful.

"Should we do another one?" asked Matthias.

"Yeah," Kaylee encouraged, but before they could start, the intercom interrupted.

"Captain, you need to come up here now," Zoe called from the bridge. The urgency in her voice jarred Kaylee back to reality. Anna and Matthias both went rigid, sharing a fearful look. Mal turned and took the steps two at a time, sweeping past River, who looked almost in pain as the spell the song wove shattered around them.

"Guess the show's over," Kaylee lamented.

* * *

"What is it?" Mal hurried to Zoe's side, half-expecting to see a small Alliance fleet bearing down on them through the viewports. Zoe pointed to the Cortex screen.

"I was browsin' through the newsfeeds to see if there was any mention of us. Came across this." She tapped a small window in one corner of the screen, bringing it to full size.

"… bringing you this news conference which took place earlier today on Osiris," the feed picked up in the middle of the anchor's announcement before the screen switched to a pre-recorded clip. The shot was in front of a large house with an immaculately landscaped yard. A well-dressed man in late middle age with arching brows and dark hair streaked with gray at his temples stood on the porch, flanked by some military officials. His eyes were sunken, heavy with rings, giving his otherwise stately appearance a sallow look. He looked tired, older than his years. There was something familiar about him, but Mal could not quite place it.

"Um, thank you for coming," the man started in a pleasant but nervous baritone, reading from a piece of paper in his hands. He was obviously not a politician or someone used to speaking to the media. "My name is Gabriel Tam, and my purpose today is to make a plea on behalf of my children, Simon and River Tam." A shockwave went through Mal, and the familiarity he noticed before finally hit home. He watched, glued to the screen. "Two years ago, my daughter, River, was kidnapped from her boarding school in Captial City. My son, her older brother, is the prime suspect in the case. Simon was very close to his sister, and also very protective of her. In the weeks leading up to her disappearance, she sent letters to him which he believed indicated that someone at the school was doing her harm. School officials notified me shortly thereafter that she had been suffering from some kind of anxiety, as is sometimes the case with someone as intellectually gifted as River is. They assured me she was being given the best treatment available, but unfortunately the condition made her confused to where she believed she was in danger. Simon did not accept this and was determined to help his sister. I believe that his love and dedication to her welfare were the reasons behind his actions. But as noble as his intent was, it denied River further treatment, which may have made her condition worse." The man swallowed away some emotion before going on. "The Fugitive Task Force recently had a break in the case that allowed them to locate my children. They believe Simon and River were picked up by a Captain Malcolm Reynolds who operates a freelance transport vessel. They also believe that Captain Reynolds, who is a former Independent sergeant, may have manipulated my son into believing that the school actually caused his sister's mental problems. The Task Force has learned that he may be using my daughter to push an anti-Alliance agenda by convincing others that the government is doing secret experiments on children like her. They have other evidence that ties him to the 'Reaver' raids on the Rim, as well as the Miranda wave. Overall, he is an unscrupulous and dangerous criminal. In light of this development, the Fugitive Task Force and I have decided that getting the word out was the best possible way to locate my children. If anyone has knowledge of the whereabouts of Captain Reynolds or his ship, a Firefly transport called _Serenity_, please wave the fugitive hotline immediately."

Gabriel Tam took a breath and tucked away his notes before looking directly into the camera. "The rest of my message goes out to Captain Reynolds himself, and to my children. If you're watching this, Captain, please let my children go. My daughter is not well. She's innocent and has no part in the politics of a war long over. Simon, if you can, please bring River back home. We know you were trying to protect her, but she needs help. She'll be taken care of here, you can come home, and we can put this _yao ming ju shi_ behind us." Gabriel Tam's eyes appeared to be welling up, and he looked down at his vest front. "I… I thank everyone for listening," his voice quavered, "and I hope and pray that my children will return safely and soon. Thank you." While the media barked questions, the military officials quickly shielded him from the array of microphones and cameras and followed his ducking form back into the house.

"Commenting on this event, Representative Locherbie expressed his support for the effort to locate the Tam siblings, but also his anger that military officials had withheld their knowledge of who perpetrated the Miranda wave from his committee and the public at large," the anchor cut back in. "He criticized the Fugitive Task Force and Alliance High Command for their secrecy in such an important matter and called for Parliament to address the issue on the floor with a resolution. Major General Daniel Kriegel, lead investigator for the Fugitive Task Force, said in a statement that the connection between the Miranda wave and Tam case was not discovered until recently. The information was withheld to protect the privacy of the family and the integrity of the investigation. Once again, the source of the Miranda wave has been confirmed by Alliance military officials. On screen is the wave code for the Fugitive Task Force hotline. If citizens have any knowledge of the transport ship _Serenity_'s location, they are urged to contact the hotline right away. Do not attempt to approach or apprehend the fugitives, as they are considered dangerous." Zoe minimized the window, cutting off the volume. She and Mal heard a noise behind them. They turned and saw River, clinging to the bulkhead, eyes huge and fixated on the Cortex screen. Slowly she sank down to the floor.

"_Ba ba_?" she whispered.

* * *

**§11.** Sirenia, "The Path to Decay," _Monsters of Metal Vol. 7_, 2009

**§12.** Rush, "Hope," _Snakes & Arrows_, 2007

1 _bi bi du mao han bi_- worst case scenario

2 _lan bao_- lousy; crappy

3 _wai li nei ren_- to look tough outside, but are really soft on the inside

4 _qiao_- cute

5 _yao ming ju shi_- terrible situation

6 _Ba ba_- dad


	10. Chapter 10

At Mal's summoning, everyone gathered on the bridge to watch the Cortex replay the news conference. By that time, the profiles of both Mal and Zoe, complete with pictures, birthdates, and social control numbers, had been appended to the end of the feed.

"Well, we're humped," Jayne pronounced matter-of-factly when it was all over.

"Sir, he's right. That's it. The whole Verse is gonna be lookin' for us." Zoe quietly agreed. Mal's gaze burned through the viewports into the space beyond, not really seeing anything. He was searching out that elusive remaining option that he knew had to exist. This was not how it ended, with them standing alone against the Alliance and all the Verse. It had not ended that way in Serenity Valley, nor with Miranda, and he was damned if he would let it end that way now. He brought his eyes back to his first mate.

"No. We'll figure a way out of this," he said, mustering confidence he did not feel. "We keep goin'."

"Where to? We're all _gorram_ fugitives now," Jayne protested.

"Look, the only ones they showed profiles of are me 'n Zoe. Might be they don't know who the rest of you are."

"But what if they do?" Inara asked.

"Even if they don't, it won't be long before they figure it out," Zoe glanced around at everyone.

"Look, we ain't got a choice. We need supplies, or it won't make no difference whether we're fugitives or not 'cause we'll be starvin'. We keep goin' to Anson's World. Inara, Jayne, and Kaylee can take the shuttle and go pick up the stuff while the rest of us wait out away from pryin' eyes. We'll be fine. We keep flying." Mal purposely ignored any more of his crew's protests because he was desperately trying to convince himself it would work. They would be okay. They had to be. He could not face the alternative.

"They didn't mention anything about Anna or Dr. Harder," Kaylee commented quietly with a look back at the two, standing just outside the bridge.

"Conjure they must think you really did take off in the shuttle," Mal reasoned. "No reason to look for a fugitive when he's as good as dead. Might be the best thing to happen to you, Doctor."

"I'm sorry, Captain," Matthias shook his head forlornly.

"You played the hand you was dealt, and the Alliance played theirs. Can't nobody fault you for that," Mal tried to sound more magnanimous than he felt. "Reckon we're more of a danger to you now than you are to us. We'll drop you off when we get there. Sorry we couldn't help you out more, but we got our hand to deal with, too." He pushed past them into the foredeck, not because he had anything particular to do, but because he had to get away from the bridge and all the doubts. "Best get ourselves prepped," he called behind him, as if there was something to actually prepare for.

"Captain!" Simon called to his back. Footsteps came running after him. "Captain! Mal!" The doctor caught up with him near the forward stairs. "Let me contact him. Let me wave my father."

"Did it ever occur to you, with all your learnin', that might be exactly what they want?" Mal stopped and faced Simon fully.

"He has a private wave code," Simon explained.

"So? They'll be monitoring that, too."

"No, I'm pretty sure they won't. He only uses it for business. He only gives it to people who might need to contact him for that reason. He wouldn't expect me to use it."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not supposed to know it." Mal understood the reasoning, but it was still a terrible gamble.

"What do you hope to accomplish by talkin' to him?"

"I've got to explain to him what happened. If he understands, maybe he won't help the Alliance anymore."

"Might put him in a precarious spot. They're likely to take it out on him if he stops cooperatin'," Mal warned.

"I know. But he's already in a precarious spot. Please, Mal. You've got to let me try."

* * *

The bridge was sealed off. Only River and the captain were present with Simon, who hovered over the Cortex controls. River huddled in the copilot's chair safely of sight of the video feed, rocking nervously. Mal stood just behind her. The captain sighed heavily, face abound with misgivings. Even after going over the bridge twice to make sure no subtle clues were lying about to give anything away, he still carped about how dangerous this was. But he had agreed to let Simon give it a try.

"You got one shot, Doc," Mal had acquiesced. "But if they trace it…" he left the sentence unfinished. "They won't," Simon asserted, but his assurance sounded a little hollow even to himself. He really had no idea if his father would have given the Alliance his private business code or not. He was potentially playing with their lives here, and not just his and River's. It gave him a long pause after he entered the wave code, his hand hovering over the screen. Finally he pushed the send command. The paging screen appeared while the signal waited for a response from the other end. Too many doubts to isolate rushed through Simon's thoughts. Maybe no one would answer. Maybe the Alliance was intercepting all waves coming into the house. Or maybe his father had changed the code since he left. His nerves grew ever tighter as the seconds passed without an answer. He stood off to the side out of view of the camera, finger ready to cancel the call just in case. Finally the screen flicked to life.

"_Ni hao_?" his father's drawn face appeared. Simon waited another second to get a quick look at the background. Gabriel was in his study, door closed, just as it always was when he took business waves. "Hello? Who's there?" he asked again to the blank screen on his end. With a quick breath, Simon stepped into view.

"Hello, Dad."

"Simon!" Gabriel gasped. His expression was pure surprise.

"Shhh!" Simon hissed.

"Oh, son! Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me. Be quiet. Don't let them hear you." Gabriel's face turned worried.

"Are you okay? Can you speak freely?" he lowered his voice, misinterpreting Simon's concern.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's not me I'm worried about. I don't want the Feds to hear you. Are they monitoring this code?"

"No, I didn't think that… how did you get it?" Simon breathed an internal sigh of relief. At least he had been right about that.

"It doesn't matter. Look, we need to talk. The government is using you to get to River. They lied to you." Gabriel's face took on a pained expression.

"Simon, I don't know what _le se_ this Captain Reynolds filled your head with, but he's a fanatic fighting a war that ended years ago. The Alliance and the Academy people explained everything to me."

"They want to take River back."

"Of course they do. It's where she belongs. It's where she needs to be. Simon, she's sick. That's why…"

"They did it to her, Dad! At the Academy. They tortured her there," Simon fairly shouted, surprising even himself a little with his vehemence. His father blinked in mild shock as well, and then his face turned stern.

"That's nonsense. Whatever you think happened, or whatever River told you happened, it was probably a product of her illness."

"They cut into her brain. I saw the scars. I imaged her myself."

"Well, if they did, I'm sure they did it for a good reason. To help her," Gabriel's certainty wavered, but it did not buckle. Simon could hardly believe his father could convince himself that what they did to River had any legitimate medical purpose whatsoever. Then again, he had not seen River since before the Academy.

"You haven't seen what it's done to her. She's not the River you sent them four years ago."

"Where is River?" Gabriel shifted topics anxiously. "Is she with you? Let me see her."

"She's here and she's safe. That's why she's staying here," Simon answered, starting to grow angry at his father's refusal to listen to him.

"Simon, you have to bring her home. You're a doctor. You know she needs treatment."

"No," Simon refused. A wave of angry emotions broke through Gabriel's calm for a moment, and Simon prepared for the rebuke, but it did not come. Instead, the anger fell away and his father dropped his chin to his chest with a heavy sigh. When he looked up again he had changed. He was more careworn, with wrinkles standing out. It struck Simon how much older he looked after just four years.

"Son, it's not just that. It's…" he faltered. "It's your mother." Gabriel's face sunk and Simon's stomach sunk with it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, forgetting his own anger.

"She's sick. She's… she's dying, Simon." The anguish was so clear on his father's face that Simon could almost feel it through the screen. "She got sick a few years ago, right after you disappeared. But when you were listed as a fugitive, people didn't trust us anymore. We… we couldn't get treatment. I even lost my position on the board. We've got enough money to live on for now, but…" his words died away. "Simon, you and River have to come home. I don't know how much longer she has." An impossible storm of emotions built inside Simon. His father took the silence as consideration and tried to convince him further. "Simon, please. Your mother needs you. She needs both of you. And after…" he left out the unspeakable thought, "after you're back, we can try to get things back to normal."

"Things will never be normal again," Simon shook his head.

"Of course they will. River can get the help she needs, and we can see about getting you reinstated at the hospital."

"Dad…"

"It won't be too much trouble. Everyone understands that you did what you did because you thought to protect River. If we put some money in the right hands, and you'll be able to pick up where you left off."

"Stop it with your _xiao suan pan_!" he shouted at the screen. "Do you really think I care about going back to the hospital?"

"Simon! That was your career, your life. It's what you always wanted."

"No!" Simon exploded. "It's what you wanted! I wanted it because you wanted it! You always had plans for me. All you ever saw was me. You never saw her. You never saw how extraordinary she was. Neither of you did. Even when she was crying out for help, begging for you to see while they tortured her, you didn't see it. You were too concerned with my 'reputation' to notice. You told me to forget about it. Well I couldn't." His father's face collapsed in devastation at the accusations, but Simon did not care. The resentment he had unconsciously built up broke free in a torrent he could not stop. "I gave it all up for her, because you couldn't see. But she was gone when I got to her. They took her away. Well, now you're x_ia xia you xu_. Tell Mom I'm sorry. We're not coming home." Simon cut off the wave. He stood in front of the blank screen, breathing hard, his hands actually shaking. He could not see straight. He could not believe his father could _shi er bu jian_ to everything that happened. Nothing had changed. He had not been able to convince him then, and it was foolish to think he could do it now. Fists clenched, he flung open the bridge door and stormed out.

* * *

Mal followed Simon to the doorway but halted there. Kaylee was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and reached for the doctor, but he brushed past her without noticing. He disappeared behind the dining room bulkhead. A chair crashed into something and then he reappeared, continuing down the rear corridor and towards the lower deck. Tearing up, Kaylee started to go after him, but Mal put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Let him be a while," he advised. He had seen Simon angry. He had seen Simon upset. He had never seen Simon like this. It was a mite frightening, even to him. "See to her," he nodded towards River, still on the bridge. The girl was sobbing silently in the copilot's chair, knees drawn up, head buried in her arms. Kaylee went to her and embraced her. The two cried together like sisters.

* * *

Late that evening, Jayne crept out of his bunk. He snuck a glance towards the bridge and could see the back of Mal's head at the helm. Looking the other way, he saw the foredeck was empty. Confident no one else was around, he wandered towards the dining area, pretending to be on the prowl for a late night snack. In actuality, he was scheming to catch a thief. He purposely left his liquor stash unlocked tonight hoping it would be a sight too tempting to resist. The dining area was empty, too, so he went straight to his cubby in the galley. It was wide open. He smirked.

"Gotcha." Removing his boots, he crept down the rear stairwell, making not a sound on the stairs. A swift glance around the commons told him it was unoccupied, so he made his way towards the guest rooms. On tiptoes, he leaned his ear against the door of the Harder's room. Nothing. Frowning, he looked to Inara and Simon's rooms on either side, shrugged, and decided to give them a listen, too. Nothing there, either. Grumbling and grumpy at having been foiled so far, he wandered into the cargo bay, scratching his head. He thought of Mal on the bridge, realizing the captain could easily be hiding a flask of whiskey while he sat on watch. Or maybe it was Zoe. She might have taken to it to ease her pain, and she was not one to let anyone see her hurt.

"Hi, Jayne," the voice took him off guard and he nearly leaped out of his socks. His head shot up to where it had come from, and he discovered River sitting on the catwalk above, feet dangling over the side. A cup and his whiskey bottle were residing right beside her.

"Girl, not only is you scarin' me, you're stealin' my whiskey," he glowered at her.

"Sorry," she apologized with a sloppy smile. Then she poured another round from the bottle, raised her cup in salute, and threw back a shot. She slammed the cup on the catwalk grating, eyes pinched shut, wobbling unsteadily on her perch.

Gorram _it!_ Jayne swore inside. She was drunk. And then a trickle of fear shivered up his spine. She was very drunk. And sitting on the edge of the catwalk with four meters of empty space below her. He had a sudden notion things could get very tricky very fast if he was not careful. Slowly he started climbing the stairs, keeping a cautious eye on her.

"I don' mean to steal, but it's the only thing tha' helps me sleep," she turned her bleary eyes on him and slurred.

"Uh huh," Jayne nodded, coming slowly towards her. She grabbed the flask and poured another cup.

"Nightmares," she mumbled. "Nightmares all th' time." She swallowed another shot and stared straight ahead.

"Ain't you s'posed to be on watch right now?" he asked gruffly, because it was the only thing he could think of to say.

"Cap'n took over for me."

"Oh." Silence hovered between them. Her shoulders twitched and rocked slightly, lip trembling. Then she sunk her head in her hands, sobbing outright. Jayne towered over her, unsure what to do. He shifted uncomfortably at her tears and looked around, wishing Inara or Kaylee, or even Mal were here. He was not much good with words, but despite his discomfort, he felt like he should say something.

"Uh… look here, now. Things is gonna be all right." _Well, that was a damn fool thing to say_, he derided himself as soon as the words were out, but before he could think of something better, River wrapped her arms around his legs and buried her face in his trousers. "Hey! Watch it," he wavered as he tried to jerk away, but she held tight. "River, _gorram_ it…" he grumbled, but her grip was like iron shackles. He did not want to shake her free lest she fall and maybe drag him with her, so he stood there, stiff and uncomfortable, feeling her hot tears soak into his pants. How long she held him like that he was not sure. When her sobbing finally died down, she lifted her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. He scowled at the tear-soaked stain on his pant leg.

"_Ma ma_," River sniffed, not noticing his displeasure at all. "She's dying. And I can't go to her. I can't. And Simon was so angry." She broke into sobs again, burying her head in her hands in anguish.

Jayne glanced down at her, frail and tormented, and amidst his anger at her pilfering and irritation at turning his trousers into her own personal hankie, he could not help but feel sorry for her. The poor girl had just learned her mother was dying. That was enough to send anyone to the bottle. Hell, if it has been his own mother, he would have… he stopped. The sight of a plump woman with rosy, crinkled cheeks and bright eyes, and a coif of red hair fading into gray fell into his mind's eye. Then he saw her lying on a bed, skeletal and ghostly pale, alone with darkness all around her. A lump formed in his throat. There were no words to describe what he envisioned, or maybe there were and he just did not have enough learning to know them. But as bad as it was, that was only his imagination. He reckoned he did not possess the wherewithal to conjure what River was feeling. He stared down at her again, unmoving, frowning slightly. A peculiar tightness worked into his chest. What could he do? What could he possibly say to ease her sorrow? His earlier words seemed that much more stupid. He glanced down at his pants, the watery stains slowly drying, and, for once, he took all the advice ever given to him and kept his mouth shut. Instead, awkward and halting, he laid a big hand on top of River's head. After a few moments more, he gently leaned her against him and held her there. He waited patiently for her to spend her tears, despite the grating starting to cut into his feet from standing on the catwalk in just socks. After some minutes, her sobs retreated to an occasional sniffle and she finally lifted her head off of him a little, giving him a chance to peel his aching dawgs from the spot where they were taking root. Meanwhile, she moved for the bottle again. Jayne reacted quickly and intercepted it on its way to fill her cup.

"Now, I think you've had enough," he admonished. He tried to take it from her, but her grip was like a vise. She resisted and he was almost afraid he was going to have to physically pry her fingers off of it. Finally she gave it up. He set it back down on the catwalk, out of her reach. "Now, time to get you to bed," he said. That was the best thing, he had reasoned in the interim. Let her sleep it off. "C'mon," he urged, reaching beneath her arm to lift her. She nodded, compliant, and rose with his assistance, but once on her feet she staggered and collapsed into him.

"Whoa, there," he caught her in his arms.

"Sorry," she mumbled, cheek smooshed against his chest.

"'S okay," he said, but inside he was wondering how in the hell he was going to get her up the stairs. He stood her upright, one hand supporting her shoulder. He looked her slight frame up and down and realized that she could not weight all that much. Hell, he was benching a hundred and fifty kilos, and she was probably not even a gram over fifty. "Here," he threw one arm over his shoulder. Then he bent down, looped his elbow behind her knees, and scooped her up.

"Than' you," she whispered as he cradled her, her head cushioned against his big bicep. He _hmph_-ed a little, but carefully carried her up the stairs. She was out by the time he reached her room. Somehow he managed to finagle them both down the ladder without falling. He laid her gently on her bed and dimmed the lights. Then, as quiet as possible, he climbed the ladder and shut the hatch. Satisfied that he had not woken her up, he turned away from her bunk and ran nose-first into Mal.

"Gaah!" he jumped back in involuntary surprise.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Mal demanded with a dangerous scowl.

"_Gorram_ it, Mal! You scared the livin' crap outta me!" Jayne cursed, hitting Mal with a dirty look. Mal glanced at River's door, and then back at him.

"I'll ask you again, what were you doin'?" his tone grew softer and more ominous.

"I's puttin' her to bed is all," Jayne growled. "Girl's drunker n' a monkey. She's the one been stealin' my whiskey." Mal blinked several times, his expression going blank.

"Oh," he mumbled after a moment's confused pause. Jayne brushed past him awkwardly, moving down the hall.

"Yeah, well, you best be keepin' an eye on her," he advised. His face twisted oddly as he stopped and turned back to the captain. "Look Mal, Lord knows you and me and Zoe's gone and gotten ourselves soused on more'n one occasion when we been feelin' low. But the way she was holdin' onto that bottle, it was like it was her only friend in the Verse. She needed it. You know that's a bad way. I'm keepin' my liquor locked up from now on." Mal slowly nodded in agreement. He knew well enough that when Jayne started worrying about someone else's drinking behavior, it was time to take notice. But he was still looking a little befuddled.

"Why'd you do that, Jayne?" he asked. "I thought you didn't like her." Jayne rubbed his chin on his shoulder, all uncomfortable again.

"Aw, hell. It ain't that I don't like her. When she's behavin' normal, she's fine. And I know I owe her somethin' for savin' our skins from them Reavers. But she ain't always normal." He paused. "She was talkin' about her Ma, and how she won't be able to see her. Well, it got me to thinkin'. If my Ma was dyin', ain't nothin' in the Verse'd keep me from goin' to her in her time of need. But she can't go." He looked at Mal, a real distressed expression on his face now. "It ain't right, Mal. It ain't right." He went silent again, pensive. Then he slowly turned and walked back towards the galley.

* * *

River tossed viciously in her sleep. She had tried to drown everything with her alcoholic binge, but that did not stop the nightmares this time. They were black and terrible. From her bed, her mother cried out for her with a heartbreaking, plaintive wail. At the same time, Reavers closed in about her helpless form. Then her father and Simon rose up before her, growing to towering proportions. They glared at each other, their fury licking like glowing fire around each of them. She was bound and strapped down to the exam chair in the infirmary wearing nothing but a hospital gown, watching all of this happen beyond her control. And then the horrendous visions all turned to face her at once. Her mother's sorrow became bitter scorn. Simon and her father focused their rage on her, practically searing her eyes with their intensity. The Reavers also began to advance on her, their mutilated faces quivering with blood and lust as they relished the knowledge that they would soon taste her flesh. The nightmare figures multiplied, more and more mounting around her. Dr. Harder, the captain, Zoe, doctors from the Academy, even the man she had seen dead on the floor of the galley not long ago. She could see his face, and she knew now that she had killed him. Him and how many more others. She did it because they asked her to. They made her. She did not have a choice. Jerking against her restraints, she threw her head back and let loose a wail that was half scream and half sob. Behind the multitudes closing in, she caught a sense of the prowling presence, waiting. It did not care about any of the people surrounding her. It did not care about her, either. It did not care who it had to kill or hurt, or how many. It simply did what was necessary to complete the mission. The mission was all that mattered. The mission. _The mission!_ The epiphany hit her like a torrent just as she was about to be torn apart by her mind's terrible conjurations. Suddenly they were all gone. Everything disappeared and she was alone in perfect, silent blackness. The only other object visible was a mirror hovering in front of her. With her eyes she traced her face in its silver surface. At first her reflection was familiar, but then it swiftly changed. The differences were subtle but apparent. Her jaw tightened, drawing her lips into a cruel, thin line. Dangerous shadows played across her brow, as if something beneath the skin was shifting and altering the light. Cold, emotionless eyes stared back at her, piercing without remorse into her soul. But instead of turning from them as before, this time she stared right back. She stepped towards the mirror, slowly, purposefully, not shifting her gaze. Her reflection also moved forward, almost eager in its movements compared to her. Frightened but determined, she stopped a few centimeters from the mirror's surface. The figure behind it pressed its palms against the glass, and she could almost feel the pressure against her mind. _I have a mission for you_, she said to it. On the corners of its lips, the barest trace of a grin formed.

* * *

1 _le se_- garbage; trash

2 _xiao suan pan_- selfish calculations

3 _xia xia you xu_- childless

4 _shi er bu jian_- turn a blind eye


End file.
